


Culmination

by She_Who_Only_Knows_War



Series: Traveling The Inner World [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anna Centric, Attempts at a novel, Bad Parenting, But I'm not today, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Experimentation, I need to do Some Research, Immortal Character that hates dying, Man-eating Creatures, Multi, Sorry Not Sorry, Tags Are Fun, Tags May Change, Things are going to get complicated, Why isn't that last one a real tag yet?, first-person pov, going on a trip, long chapters, shitty fight scenes, with our favorite Inhuman characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:23:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6271441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She_Who_Only_Knows_War/pseuds/She_Who_Only_Knows_War
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A team is sent to a recently revealed island.</p>
<p>Fate, of course, has planned this all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've debated for a full year as to whether or not I should post this. But it's been sitting on my computer for a very long time, untouched.
> 
> It is - Even unfinished - likely the longest thing I've ever written. So, hopefully I can finish it. And hopefully, it will be readable and enjoyable. But it is still in its rough, first stages.

It's all over the media these days. Someone leaked the whereabouts of an island that some new, ambitious reporter went to investigate. He ended up relaying it back to his studio before himself and his crew were killed. I didn't know, at the time, that we were going to be sending people to investigate. But as it turns out, I'm on the team that America will be sending.

I'm an expendable. The Doctor of the team. Brushing my short, blonde hair out of my face, I gently push open the great oak doors and step inside of the meeting room.

A man and a woman, both of Oriental descent stand over the table, a map spread over it's vast, glossy surface. A third man, light skin and blonde hair stands beside them, making notes.

Everyone else - A dark-skinned man with glasses, a small framed man of Hispanic origin, a large man of African American heritage, and a burly man with curly red hair - looks up at me.

I smile politely and walk to the table, taking a look at the map, myself. The island is a long oval, wider at the sides. The man looks up. "You must be Miss Harrison."

"Y-yes, Sir."

"I'm Hitomi Anderson. This," He gestures to the woman beside him. "Is Lieutenant Reiko Asaki."

His name sounds vaguely familiar. "Nice to meet you," I say.

She nods. "We're glad to have you, Doctor."

I make no mention that it wasn't my choice to be here.

"Have we decided on a course yet?" Asks the dark-skinned man with glasses.

"I'm glad you asked, Mr. Sojourn." Says Mr. Anderson, beckoning everyone towards himself. He only continues when we're all standing, circled around the rectangular table. “We will be taking a plane to our destination. But how exactly we are going to finish the journey is unclear as original circumstances may have changed.”

He pauses, looks at Miss Asaki for anything she may add. She gives nothing in reply but a shrug.

“This is where we will land.” His leather clad index finger rests on a spot over a large lake in the center of the map. “And travel south.” His finger slides down to a spot labeled _Research Facility._ “This is where we will find what we are to be exploring.”

“What island is this?” I run my fingers into my short hair to keep it from getting in my face. It’s not like I’m a geology buff or anything. But it is a little odd no one had noticed it before all of this.

"It's something the Government has kept a secret for one hundred years," Says the Dark-skinned man, Sojourn. “The first fifty years, they conducted genetic experiments. Mid-way, they lost contact with our scientists. And it wasn’t until now that anyone was allowed to know about or return to that island.”

"You seem to know a lot about this," Says Hitomi. "Is there anything else you can tell us?"

Mr. Sojourn shakes his head. "Merely that I am to document everything."

Anderson sighs. Looks towards me. "I expect that you and Mr. Otzoy do the same."

"Hey, I'm not even sure there's going to be any wildlife worth studying," Says the man I'm sure is Otzoy. I wonder if any one else has committed a crime.

xXx

The Military plane is small. But everyone fits. Miraculously. I can’t believe we have space to breathe.

We sit in the back, strapped into our seats and to the walls. I’m pleased with my last minute decision to wear khaki cargo pants and a blue tank instead of the skirt I thought about wearing last night. Miss Asaki sits to my left, between the door and I. Anderson sits between Soujorn and the door and Soujorn sits across from me.

Beside Soujorn is the burly man with curly, red hair. But I’m unable to see the man beside him because to my right, sits the big black man, Dennis, I believe. There’s another man beside Dennis, I think he's the fair haired man, but I'm not sure because Dennis takes up my whole field of vision on the right side.

“I’ve studied the map,” Soujorn says to Anderson. “There two separate areas. Why?”

“One was where the scientists lived, worked, and studied. The second was where they observed the things they created.” Mr. Anderson must have gleaned as much as he could to prepare for this. He obviously didn’t want to go in as blind as they intended for us to be. “Did you bring something to occupy you on the way? The engine of the plane will drown us out.”

I brought books on flora, fauna, and anatomy. Anything I thought I could use. Starting with edible plants, I spent six hours reading as much as I could stuff into my brain. Mr. Soujorn poured over maps.

With a jolt that startles me, the plane begins to list to the left. My book on venomous plants flies out of my hand and slides into Mr. Soujorn’s boot. After a struggle with his seatbelt and effort to reach and pick up my book, his eyes meet mine and I find the same question there: _Should I be worried?_

Before I can verbalize the question, the plane jolts again. And looking at the Captain and his Lieutenant, it’s clear they hadn’t expected this either. I should have called my boyfriend, Marshal, before I left. Maybe I should have called my mother and worked things out with her a few weeks ago.

I figured it was moot, I now wished I had. I thought I would come back and tell my friends about my top-not-so-secret adventure and we’d laugh and joke about how I should have married the scientist but instead I was with a guy who would only be known as the man that married Anna Harrison.  
_If I get out of this alive,_ I think to myself, _I’ll do these things!_

After what feels like hours of gripping my seatbelt harness in cold fear and preparing to die at twenty, the engine goes silent.

 _We’re safe,_ I think as I breathe a deep sigh of relief. The cockpit door slides open and the Co-pilot, Ling Xhao, skillfully works with and around ‘L’s, as he explains that they encountered the Plane barrier that was weak but miraculously still up and that they had also found a better place to land.

“We’re lucky you’re such good pilots,” One of the men out of my line of sight says.

Mr. Xhao rubs the back of his neck, his smile is sheepish. “Thanks.”

With intense patience and multiple tries, I manage to free myself from the wall and stand beside Mr. Soujorn, between Dennis and Otzoy, and behind Mr. Anderson and Miss Asaki.

Behind us, stands the fair-haired man, wiry and possibly of German or Russian origin and the burly man with red hair. As the back of the plane lowers and becomes a ramp, the Troup around us waits, guns up and at the ready.

“Be careful.” Anderson says as he and Asaki begin stepping down the ramp. “We do not know what is out there.”

“What’s worse than Wolfy?” Asks Dennis.

“Your mother,” Says the wiry man, who is probably Wolfy.

Dennis merely snorts. “I’ve heard better come backs from her, too.”

We stand on a large landing pad – big enough for two helicopters, overgrown with vines and scattered with leaves. I’m surprised they even knew it was a landing pad. The landing pad drops off several feet behind us into a lake. A significant part of it has crumbled into the water and I wonder how much of it is stable.

It’s a pretty scene but the guys behind me don’t let me stop to take it in fully. Following Mr. Anderson into a hangar that was attached to the landing pad, we find very much the same – scattered with vines and leaves that nearly create a new floor. Some of the brown leaves twirl in the breeze. Nested in a particularly thick and curling vine at the top right corner of the hangar, is a colorful bird of possible Sparrow variety. It watches us curiously. Its head dark red at the top, ochre at the bottom and black markings around its eyes. Its beak is longer than most birds I had seen. It twitters at us as if asking:  
_Where did you come from?_

From beside Soujorn, Otzoy hums to himself while looking carefully at it, “I wonder what species it is.”

“After we set up camp, we’ll catch a pair for you to look at. Is that good, Gabe?” Asks the burly man behind Soujorn.

“Yeah, thanks, Vinny.” Gabe sounds content with the idea.

Already at the large metal door, Mr. Anderson is fiddling with the keypad. “Everyone should study and document the birds. Please document the plants, too.” Another minute or two of tampering and he sighs. “As I feared. The generators are not running.”

“Let us give it a try,” Says Dennis. He and Vinny step to the front of the group. With a few minutes of effort and a crowbar, they pry the door open just enough to squeeze through it. Mr. Anderson and Miss Asaki go through first. Then Gabriel, then Soujorn. I go next. Dennis, Vinny and Wolfy go after me.

Birds, some the color of flamingos, some the color of cardinals, and some the color of canaries, take flight. The flapping and the twittering is the only sound before silence takes over again. The room is lit by a massive skylight that now only houses broken glass, forgotten nests, and vines that have decided to expand into the building. Rows of computers, two on either side of the furthest hallway in the center of the back wall, one row straight across from us, and two long lines of computers in the center with about twenty feet between the computers and the wall, sit quietly under a thick layer of dust. There are two other hallways, one to my right and the other to my left.

Gabriel takes a sharp breath. “Oh my God.” All attention turns to the shattered technology, battered down doors that once blocked the hallways and the stains that are on the walls and leaf-covered, fluffy green carpet.

“Rust or blood?” Some one asks. I’m not entirely sure who because my focus is on a computer with an ax lodged in its screen. Pulling my pistol from its thigh holster, I turn the safety off.

Miss Asaki eyes my firearm. “It appears to be deserted, Doctor.” She sounds like she’s trying to reassure me. But we both know whatever did this could still be here.

“Still,” Insists Mr. Anderson, “Two by two, fan out and secure the area. We will be staying here and I would rather not have any surprises.” Miss Asaki volunteers to pair off with me, although she looks like she would rather be with Captain Anderson.

Mr. Anderson pairs off with Soujorn and they go down the corridor to the right. Gabriel and Dennis go down the corridor straight ahead. The other two, Vinny and Wolfy, stay behind. Miss Asaki and I go to the corridor on the left.

When I feel we are out of earshot, I ask, “Did you want this mission?”

Even with the flashlight mounted on her rifle, the darkness is stifling. After a long, awkward silence, she says, “The Captain asked me to.”

 _Lovestruck,_ I note to myself. It’s not as if the man in question isn’t attractive. He just doesn’t seem very approachable or like he would return her affections. But most girls did love that type.

“Did you?” She suddenly parrots back to me. I must have been scrutinizing her without intending to.

“I didn’t really care. I was just happy to get away from my old life,” I say. “I’m kind of excited about the adventure, unhappy about the danger.”

She shrugs. “I do not think anything on this island is a danger to us.”

That surprises me. “I figured a lot of it was.”

Miss Asaki shakes her head. “Animals can be ruled, plants avoided.”

“Did Mr. Anderson tell you that?” I ask.

“No.” Her tone sounds slightly miffed.

At the end of the corridor is a door of the heavy, metal variety. It would have been impossible for a human to move it because of its weight. But there it barely hangs on its hinges.

“What could have done this?” I ask. I feel a sense of wrongness creep up my spine. With that ever constant shrug, she raises her rifle and enters the room. I follow with my pistol.

The room isn’t that impressive. I expected a little more… excitement, I suppose. It has a keyboard the length of the wall to my right, starting a few feet from the entryway, curling with the corner, going a ways, curling again, and ending several feet from a red door. Beside the red door are two, large metal shelves. To the right of the shelves, is a blue door. Against the wall, above the keyboard, are fifty or sixty computer screens. All black, their original purpose forgotten. We walk to the blue door and Miss Asaki looks as though she’s preparing for something to throw open the door and tear us to bits.

“Open the door, please,” She says. As the door opens, sunlight comes pouring in.

“The lock on this door is broken.” She sounds only slightly bothered by this idea. As if she wanted to do something she hadn’t really cared too much about only to have it canceled by rain. Looking around the door, I’m met with a fenced in area, obviously having undergone years without care.

“We will have to secure this door,” She says, more to herself than to me. Once I shut the door, we move to the red one. She keeps her finger on the trigger, I open the door when asked. Behind this door is a dome made of hexagon panels. There are panels missing in different places, mostly at the top. Foliage has filled up and overflowed the place, and the cacophony of birds is deafening. “This one, as well."

I shut the door. “It’s weird that the door to this room is broken. But these doors aren’t.”

Nodding in agreement, she turns her gun, and its flashlight, to the shelves. They dully reflect the light back.

“We should move the shelves in front of the door to secure them.” She then goes over to an office chair that had been knocked on its side, as all of them appeared to be, sets it onto its wheels and rolls it so it’s positioned a few feet from the shelves. She then places her gun onto it.

“Let’s obstruct the blue door first,” She says. I nod and go to one side of the shelf while she moves to the other. Sheathing my gun, I place my gloved fingers around the center of the wall of the shelf and pull with all of my strength while she pushes. With a horrible screeching sound like that of nails on a chalk board, the shelf reluctantly scoots over the tile floor.

Moving the next shelf is very much the same. When it’s in its new place, at least for now, I dust my gloved hands and take a step back, knocking my heel into what I, at first, think is computer equipment. In the low light, I realize that it is not a box of wires or tools – but a human. Turning fully around to face it, I can see the dark, long dried stains on their moth-eaten uniform that hung loose on what was once flesh but now only bone.

The seconds I spend in surprise gives Asaki time to stand beside me. “How did he die?” Her flashlight, and hopefully not the barrel of her gun, point at me for more light. “And how long ago?”

Gently pulling the person forward, being careful only to handle the uniform, I find an indentation on the back of their skull.

I carefully set him back. “He was attacked and killed from behind,” I say. “Dead long before we got here.”

“We should give them a burial.” She says. It is odd how unperturbed she is by a dead man in the corner of the room. A dead man we could have overlooked. But, I agree. Whoever this was, needed to be properly put to rest.

After another minute or two of intense scrutiny of the room, we begin our journey down the hall from whence we came. Past the computer keyboard and dark screens that likely were linked to cameras somewhere. Past the battered down door, still valiantly clinging to its hinges, and down the hallway with the flashlight to guide us. I wonder what my boyfriend, Marshal, would think about all of this. Would he bravely say we should find the culprit? Would he demand we turn tail and leave this island?

When we return to the Main Office, the room with all of the desk computers, we meet up with the others who just got back as well. Wolfy sits on the floor, leaves brushed away from him so he only sits on the carpet with a large notebook in hand.  
Dennis is out in the hangar, cooking some gruel and the others stand in a circle around Mr. Anderson as he leans against one of the computer desks with his arms crossed. We join the circle and wait for the others to talk about what they had found.

“We will debrief during supper,” Anderson says, looking oddly put out at the idea.

Dinner means sitting around the fire and forcing ourselves – but subtly – to shovel down the food we know we need for the next day.

“To the East,” begins Mr. Anderson, politely between bites, “is a Cafeteria. There are still a few unused canned goods. An Infirmary Wing is to the South of that room. But there are no medical supplies left.” His tone is apologetic.

Hoping my tone is amiable and picking at my food with my spork, I smile slightly. “I have enough stored on the plane for now.”

“The room to the North of the Cafeteria is merely recreational,” He pauses as Wolfy writes down each detail, his own spork sticking out of his mouth. “They built a gym, an entertainment room, and a courtyard that has a garden to the West and a heavily wooded area to the East.”

Dennis sighs wistfully. “These guys really lived the life.”

“Until someone wanted them dead,” Says Miss Asaki. Her long eyelashes are lowered as she looks at her fingernails. She finished her meal before the rest of us. I have to wonder if that was a learned trait or something she just did.

Dennis opens his mouth to respond but Anderson cuts in. “Which brings me to my next proposal. I assume everyone found at least one deceased person?” He carefully looks at each of us. I nod and watch as nearly everyone else does the same. “I think we should lay them to rest in the courtyard. As soon as physically possible,” He says. Everyone agrees. “What is in the corridor to the North?” He asks.

“The North has Living Quarters. A little to the West is a Wash Area for contagion,” Says Dennis. “Further to the West of the Living Quarters is a Laboratory with floor-to-ceiling tubes and about half of them have creatures of some sort in them. There’s also a weird glowing crystal thing. To the Southeast of the Lab is a Locked Door.” Dennis seems to be thinking about what had happened pretty intently.

Gabriel shudders slightly. “We tried opening it,” He says. “Whatever is on the other side is still alive and hungry. Thankfully, the door won’t open without electricity. I don’t want to be up close and personal with it anytime soon.”

Sounding like he had almost forgotten, Dennis perks up. “We also found the generators in a room to the South of the Lab. They have enough fuel for about another week – assuming the fuel is still good – but only one runs.”

Mr. Anderson nods. “That will also be on the agenda. Electricity will help our operation along generously.”

“We mostly found deceased people in the piles of leaves,” Vinny says. “Whoever attacked this place meant business. We also found cleaning supplies and more fuel for the generators in a utility closet. We have destroyed computers, crude weapons, and rusted firearms in high demand. We could open a junk store and call it, _What About Mob?”_

We all stare at Vinny a little strangely. I wonder if Marshal would have found that funny. Probably. He thinks the strangest things are funny.

“You’re one-liners need more than twenty lines of work,” Says Wolfy.

With obviously no interest for the inevitable banter, Mr. Anderson changes the subject. “As far as I can see, they did not take anything when they invaded this place,” He says. “What would be their motive for this kind of thing?” Nobody can really think of an answer.

Then it’s our turn to debrief. Before Vinny tries to be funny again. We tell them about the doors and how we blocked them, the dome and the fenced area, and the computer screens.

“We will have to block it with something more reliable tomorrow,” Says Mr. Anderson. “We have made good progress.” He makes eye contact with each of us to be sure the compliment is received by everyone. “There is a tarp in the hangar that I would like to use to cover the skylight with,” He says.

In the fading light of the day, we lay out the dead in the forested area in the Courtyard, cover the skylight, assign Watch Duty, and go to sleep.

xXx

I get assigned second watch, along with Miss Asaki. She sits awake with her legs pulled up to her chest, still as a statue and silent as a cat. I have to stand, bleary-eyed and trying to stay awake.

Trying to keep my voice low, I ask, “How long do you think we’ll be here?”

“As long as it takes. We are not to leave without any data. They will probably forget we exist.” The distaste in her voice indicates neither of us wants to be forsaken and left on an island to survive on our own.

“Why?” She asks. Her tone only slightly cool and uninterested, “Do you have a reason to be in a hurry?”

I sit near the solar-powered space heater, trying to keep warm but not cozy. Anything but cozy. I’ll be out like a light of that happens. “Even though you’ve said there’s nothing to fear, this island is creepy.”

“It’s only eerie if you allow it to be.” Miss Asaki says. Mr. Anderson shifts in his sleep and lets out a sigh. Miss Asaki’s attention fixes on his form as a hawk would fix its gaze on prey.

“Are they light sleepers?” I ask.

“All but Dennis. He will sleep through nearly anything. I am unsure about Mr. Soujorn.” She turns her gaze upon me. Her eyes look the color of pitch in the low light. “You do not seem to sleep deeply though.”

I rub my arms, trying not to feel defensive. “It’s a new place and I’m pretty uncomfortable here. I won’t sleep well.”

“You seem like the type that never liked sleeping in the dark at home,” She says. She probably intended it as an observation. It stings like a barb though. I can sleep in the dark, but I have never wanted to in the past without Marshal to protect me, as childish as it sounds. “That’s not to say there’s anything wrong with an aversion to the dark.” She seems to notice the double meaning and tries to clarify. “We were never allowed to have such a thing. I grew out of it though.” And just makes it worse.

I decide to change the subject. “Do you ever plan on settling out of the Military and getting married?” Perhaps the opposite sex would be a better source of interest.

Perplexed at the strange query, she replies slowly, “I am engaged.”

Although she doesn’t sound all that excited about it. I wait for more information but she says nothing else. Most women were excited for marriage. If she wasn’t happy with the marriage, as she seemed to be, why didn’t she just break it off? Perhaps she was overwhelmed?  
Unhappy, but agreeing out of pity? Perhaps it was the opinion of her family she valued?

Obviously hesitant, but still trying to sound aloof, she asks, “Are you in a romantic relationship?” My questions for her would have to wait.

I nod, smiling as I think about the things Marshal and I planned to do when I got back, the things I planned to tell him. And I stop smiling when my thoughts go to the sour conversation we had before I left. “He asked me not to go on this trip. We didn’t really have time to make up after that argument.” I realize this as I talk. I hadn’t had the time because I was packing and thinking and my friends wanted to spend time with me before I left.

Miss Asaki reaches a hand out to the space heater. The little hairs on her arms are raised. “I would be bothered if a man tried to manage me.” Maybe her fiancé let her roam as she pleased? Could that be the reason she was marrying him? Freedom?

“Perhaps we could connect you to him on the satellite phone when we’ve finished our main starter objectives.” She’s thinking out loud again. Thankfully, it’s to me this time. I smile, hoping to show her how grateful I am and thank her. I really do miss Marshal quite a bit. It wasn’t as though we were always connected at the hip, but we usually didn’t go very long without the other. We sit in silence the rest of the Watch and then go to sleep when Vinny and Gabriel get up.

xXx

I wake to fake food being cooked. Not waffles or toast but the gruel the military people eat when it’s not time to use the MREs.  
Awake, but barely, I stagger from my sleeping bag and sit around the fire with the others.

“Our first objective today is to get the generators running. The second objective is to bury the dead. I am not superstitious,” Mr. Anderson says, “but I have no interest in leaving them above ground for much longer. The last objective is to secure the area so the invaders, should they return, do not slay us as well.” We inhale breakfast quickly so we can get done with our first to-do on the list by lunch. Wolfy verbally recounts everything he documented so we could add or correct details.

xXx

Holding the flashlight for Miss Asaki as she tries to fix the generators I ask, “Do you think whatever they were studying did all this?”

Miss Asaki gives a vine a particularly rough yank and looks at me. Her face is in shadow but I can make out that her eyebrows are pressed together and up.

Her lips form a thin line. “It is not logical to believe they were made to be any sort of aggressive. The only viable option would be that they were created to be timid and mild mannered. They probably ran in fear.” She sounds exasperated just slightly. But what am I supposed to think? There’s no known life on this island with the exception of whatever the scientists created.

Wasn’t it logical to think that maybe one of them was made wrong and therefore had the potential to do this? What if it was like an illness that could be spread to the others?  
Why was Miss Asaki so determined to believe that nothing was wrong with this picture?  
Was she brainwashed or just afraid to admit that if she accepted that something horrible had been created, there were also other questions that had to be asked? Or perhaps, I had seen one too many horror films before I embarked?  
Mr. Anderson seems to be contemplating it just as hard as I. Maybe on a different track, though.

“Whatever it was, we should be prepared should it-” The first generator comes on. The tubes in the lab begin to bubble and come to life. Whatever is in the locked room shrieks and throws itself against the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously I don't own anything this chapter makes reference to. I _do_ own the characters, setting, and plot.

We freeze in surprise and listen for any signs that it broke the door down and is out. The creature continues its assault on the door, obviously still contained.

“It is probably afraid of all the sudden noise,” Says Miss Asaki. She stands and makes her way to the locked door. We follow and watch as her hands roam over the heaving door.

“We should feed it.” She seems as if overcome with pity for whatever is in the room.

Dennis shifts his weight from one leg to the other. His right hand rests on his gun. “You’re not going to make yourself, or all of us,” His left hand gestures to the rest of us, “into long pork, are you?”

Pulling a berry from her pocket, her fingers catch on a slot, a few inches wide and a few inches long with a small knob attached. She pulls on the knob and the slot comes open. The thing on the other side growls like a big cat, deep and rumbling. “I do not see any reason for them to have made it a carniv-” Her words break off as she stares into the slot. It makes a soft rasping sound and reaches small, dirty fingers through the slot. Its nails are broken and cracked.

She offers it the berry, perched at the tip of her fingers. The rest of us squat to get a good look at what’s on the other side. It looks at each of us with tangible, human-like intelligence. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I had really begun to not like this place. It rasps again and its hand starts inching towards the berry.

“There’s probably a good reason it’s been locked behind that door,” Gabriel says.

“Does anyone else think of that messed up gremlin from _The Hobbit?_ ” Dennis asks. His tone only half serious.

“You mean Gollum?” Asks Vinny.

Gabriel looks empathetic. “I kind of pity him.”

“Why would you pity such a messed up little bugger?” Asks Dennis. “It’s not like he was forced to wear the ring.”

“He was messed up because he liked shiny things and nobody told him that shiny things always mean a trap,” Says Gabe.

Vinny chuckles. “That’s why women also like rings,” He says.

Miss Asaki glares at him. But I’m confused. “You trap women with rings?”

“No,” He says. He rolls his shoulders. “The ring signifies the trapping of us.”

“So when you give a woman a ring,” I say slowly, “It’s a sign she’s ensnared _you?_ ”

He crosses his arms and nods to himself, seemingly content with his own logic. “Precisely."

“You must have never really been with a woman then,” Mr. Soujorn says. “Because it seems women have us snared the moment we begin to court them.” And just like that, it’s a mere suggestion. Vinny seems to go from preparing a comeback, to trying to determine if he should still deliver a comeback.

Dennis throws his hands up. “Dude. You can’t just soften the blow like that.” He points at Soujorn. “You’re supposed to let the burn be a burn.” Soujorn waves him off.

“Well, Mr. Soujorn’s right,” Wolfy says.

The dirty hand finally plucks the berry and looks at it, cautiously turning it in its fingers.

Leaving her hand out, Miss Asaki turns toward us. “Not as bad as expected.” There’s a note of smugness she tries to hide. “I believe the noises it made were-” In a blink, it grabs her by the wrist and starts frantically trying to pull her into the slot.

Her reflexes are good, though, because the moment she feels the tug, she yanks back before it can pull her hand through. I freeze in surprise and fear. I’m sure Mr. Sojourn had very much done the same. Dennis’ barrel points toward the door but Gabriel runs between the gun and the door with his hands up. “Wait,” He cries. “You’ll hit her!”

Planting her feet on either side of the door to get enough leverage to pull her hand away just slightly, her left hand makes a grab for the knife at her left hip.

“Captain,” Wolfy says. Asking for a decision. Mr. Anderson’s hand comes up, palm out – signaling for the group to wait.

It’s a little frightening that such a creature with such a small presence has enough power to fight her. She hits it with the back of her knife. After the first whack, it yanks her into the door and she cries out. It sounds more of surprise than pain. She then wrenches her hand away from the slot and, with reluctance, slices the tiny hand.

With a shriek, it lets go and she drops to the floor, falling into Vinny who had gotten into position for that exact moment. Her knuckles are bloodied and her forehead has a light sheen of sweat, still humming with adrenaline. Whatever it was, growls like it did before and watches us through the slot.

Anderson strides over and helps them up. Miss Asaki bows her head and slumps her shoulders, expression apologetic. “Captain.”

He merely shakes his head. “How deep did you cut it?”

Miss Asaki wipes the sweat from her brow. “Not very.”

“I would like to observe it in the future, but for now, let’s take care of your hand and then finish up with the generators,” He says.

xXx

“I believe the first generator is what holds up the air defense. It receives its power from the panels on what is left of the roof. The second generator will run well enough. The third is extremely clogged with vines and the last one is rusted over.” Miss Asaki points at each one with a freshly bandaged right hand. I wonder if it is a constant reminder that not everything on this island is friendly.

Perhaps, feeling a similar way about it himself, Mr. Anderson takes care to avoid it. “How long until the third generator is operational?”

“A day or two,” She says.

He doesn’t look all that pleased but nods anyways. “Mr. O’Riley.” Vinny looks up. “Please help Miss Asaki clear the vines.” With a nod, both of them disappear back to the Generator Room.

My curiosity getting the better of me, I look about the Laboratory. As stated before, half of the tubes against the far wall have creatures in them. Some of them half formed. Some of them look as though all they need is the open air. It would probably be useless now. A giant crystal sits imposingly in the center of the room, its peaks end only a few inches from the ceiling and several pieces jut out from the main body. There’s a small fence that circles it with a sign on every side that reads:  
 **Caution! Do not go past fence!**

I take a few minutes to look at it. What was the use of this strange thing? What was the use of that creature in the locked room?

There are desks. Both of them have test tubes, analyzers, microscopes, freezers, some things I can’t remember the names of, and notebooks. I feel eyes intently on my back as I walk over to the closest desk and pick up a notebook. Everything is covered in a fine layer of dust. I flip through the yellowed pages and find drawings and descriptions of many of the animals they had created, including a two headed reptile that loved water and was kept in a small pond in the observation area.

The words ‘ _Full-blood,_ ’ ‘ _Tarshish_ ,’ and _‘hostile_ ’ are used frequently but no depiction of them is made. They are used in conjunction enough to give me the idea that running into them would be far from fun.

In the fridge are samples labeled with names I had mostly never heard of. The samples are probably dead now, considering the freezers had been off for fifty years. I’m still amazed at the vivid imaginations of these people but I’m concerned at the things they created.

After flipping through their notes for anything I might have found interesting, I give each notebook to Gabriel. Many of the notebooks have much the same text. Some mainly document the colors and textures. Some document the shapes and forms of the creations. And some try to describe the sounds or behavior. The consistent thing is how they were created, down to very fine detail.

Gabe sounds slightly impressed. “Some of the documented creatures were imported. But most of them were created.”

“You can’t make something out of nothing,” I say. After setting the notebooks back, we make our way through the decontamination room.

“I think, after we bury the deceased, we should make our way through the living quarters and see if any of them documented the happenings,”  
Says Wolfy.

“I bet there was more of that thing behind the door that got out,” Dennis says.

Mr. Anderson falls into step with us. “Perhaps,” He says. “But I want to be absolutely sure.”

xXx

 

We spend the rest of the day, working up a sweat in the cool air, digging graves. We lie the last sheet-wrapped half-body-half-skeleton down amongst the trees as Dennis comes over to tell us dinner is ready and we do away with our gloves and particle masks and go inside, scrubbing our hands with soap and water and then sanitizer.

Sitting around the fire in the hangar, Miss Asaki and Mr. O’Riley tell us they’ve made good progress on the generator and would have it done by the next day.

Mr. Wolfstadt – Wolfy says he found some journals when he was on break and he would need help to go through all of them. I volunteer. Most of us do. I’m handed three journals. Two of them are women’s (Judging by the content and the handwriting) and one of them is a man’s. (Judging by the handwriting, also, I’ve never met a woman named Larry) It feels weird that I would be peering into the privacy of another. How bad could it be? I think, They all came with a mission to accomplish, right? So why would they deal with any sort of personal thing that would be embarrassing to them?

The first woman was a scientist with a passion for creating never before seen animals. She even went on to talk about how much she loved the way the birds we saw perched in the hangar looked and sounded. She called them Fall-Backs. They tended to preserve eggs of any species of bird and care for them as if they were their own, apparently. A “fall back” for any species of endangered bird. She also missed home and was angry with how some of their creations were being treated.

The second woman, too, talked about how she missed home, wondered what her loved ones were doing without her, and spoke of a security guard she was a little obsessed with. She also sounded as though she was observing others in the facility. Some of them were raising families. I, personally, though it would be a strange place to have children or even begin a population in. Then again, it would be a world they created. Who wouldn’t want their children to grow up in a world like that?

“I don’t think they should have been playing God,” Says Gabriel. As if he’d been reading my thoughts. “Usually, it is right after humans get comfortable and good at it that something horrible happens.”

Miss Asaki stops flipping through the pages of the journal in her hand for a moment. “I think it depends.” I thought she was too absorbed in her reading to have paid us any attention.

“On What?” Asks Gabriel. "In which circumstances do we do well at playing God?"

Miss Asaki turns another page. “World hunger. Death. Name something we haven't fixed.”

“War.”

She doesn’t look up but her eyebrow quirks. “Did it ever occur to you that it's frequently for our good that such a thing happens?”

“So what then,” He says. “Killing people makes the world better?”

Her eyes flicker up for a brief moment. “Wouldn’t you like your own children to live in a world where they aren't fighting for survival?" I wonder what Marshal would think of this conversation, if he would agree or disagree. Was he having dinner with his family now, talking about his day?

“Yes,” He takes a moment to write down something he’s noted in his own notebook, “But there are a million other ways to solve our problems.”

Putting down his own book, Mr. Soujorn says, “War only destroys nations.”

Gabriel sighs. “The point,” He gestures with his pen, “is that humans shouldn’t be in godlike positions.”

Miss Asaki shrugs. “I still feel good humans could pull it off well.”

Gabe scoffs. “There are no good humans.” He uses his pen as if it were his finger, shaking it for emphasis. “We’re all so full of corruption that it would be impossible to be good if we didn’t have anyone to put us under their feet.”

Miss Asaki puts her book down. “Okay,” She says. She looks at me. There’s intensity there. “What about Doctors? Very rarely are they frowned upon, we’re always told to trust them. They could kill us and get away with it, but most of the time, they never do any harm.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Yes, but they manage to do a huge amount of harm when they decide to. They aren’t good, either.”

The back and forth lasts a long time and spans many different subjects. I get tired and go to bed early.

xXx

After my watch, I can’t go back to sleep. My head stirs and gives me a shake every time I draw near to sleep. Getting up is probably a viable option.  
I wiggle out of my sleeping bag and make my way over to the quietly conversing Soujorn and Anderson on watch.

I creep close, over sleeping bags and around backpacks. “I’m headed out for a walk,” I say.

The Captain nods. “Stay inside the Facility please. And send Mr. O’Riley back when you greet him, if you would not mind.” Mr. O’Riley – Vinny, I had heard, needed to relieve himself but hasn’t come back.

“Yessir.” I call over my shoulder.

“And Anna.” I turn, my surprise probably showing on my face that Mr. Soujorn called me by first name. The space heater he sits next to highlighting his features and amplifying his attractiveness. “Please take care.”

Smiling I promise, “Of course.” Then I turn back to my path before I can give any more brooding to my previous thoughts.

Stepping inside of the Main Office, I wait a minute or two for my eyes to adjust. When I’m confident I won’t run smack into a wall and have an embarrassing injury to report, I decide to explore the right side of the building. I hadn’t been there just yet and it might be fun to compare my old life with that of the people here. My left hand runs along the line of computers as I walk by them, leaving a clean path behind me and stirring dust into the air. And perhaps I shouldn’t, but no one will be bothered with it.

Ignoring the regular ominous chill that I usually get from this place, I stroll through the passageway that’s so dark I can barely see my hand in front of my face. I’m loathe to use my flashlight because we’re limited on batteries and my torch and flares are emergency use only.

I get lost in my thoughts. What we would find if we ever got the security cameras up and running? Had anything become of the romances mentioned in several of the diaries? My thoughts then turn over to the relationship between Captain and Lieutenant, as I wander through the Infirmary Wing, and if per chance, he would ever notice her as worthy of romantic pursuits. She was certainly pretty and quite nice. Her intelligence was high, too. Surely, he would acknowledge her on this trip.

And then, finally, I allow myself to think, once again, of Marshal. Was he sleeping or awake? What he had done yesterday and had planned for today? I wish he was with me so I could lay my head in the crook of his shoulder and just be. I thought of his mother and her cooking and the way she made me feel like I finally had a family.

A loud echoing _**clang**_ scares me so badly I nearly leap from my skin. I pull my pistol from its holster, turn off the safety, and turn on my flashlight. Creeping around the Wing, waiting for the animal that made that sound – or Vinny – to reveal itself, I find nothing and decide it would be best to alert the others, just in case it was something similar to the little creep behind the door in the Lab, I make my way as quietly as I can.

It’s when I enter the cafeteria that I hear a rustling in the kitchen. I freeze like a deer in front of headlights. Bolt for safety or try to get it when it least expects us?  
Offense is the best defense, right?  
I steel my nerves with a deep breath, and stealthily, if I do say so myself, tiptoe over, mindful of the tables, trashcans, and counters. When I’m in position, I raise my gun and my flashlight at the same time, pointing it at the sound.

The box of canned goods has been brought down from the highest shelf. A few of the cans lay scattered on the floor.

Someone has gotten into the box. And I think for a moment that an animal did it. But the box is upright and many of the cans are inside, right side up. Animals don’t knock the box off the shelf and then try to put everything back.

Someone breathes behind me and I whip around and shine the flashlight on a young man, possibly younger than me.

I am pretty sure I scream. Or maybe it’s the gun in his face that alarms him.

His hands fly up in front of his chest, “Wait!” He shouts in rusty English. “I don’t –” I pull the trigger on auto pilot before he can finish. Warm liquid sprays over me and the neutral beige wall beside him. I stand in shock and horror at my own actions. The man lies dead, blood spilling from his forehead, his expression just as surprised as I felt.


	3. Chapter 3

“Miss Harrison!” Yells Mr. Anderson. I can hear several sets of footsteps alongside his. His words still carry loud and clear. “Are you alright?”

_No_ , I think to myself, blinking blood out of my eyelashes as if it were only rain that had dripped down my face. I just thoughtlessly killed a man.

“ _Anna,_ ” Yells Mr. Soujorn. “Please respond.” I suppose, a little distantly, that his using my first name means that I had been given permission to use his.

“I’m fine,” I say. My voice is weak, and fine is a horrible, gross overstatement, but I want to assure them I’m not physically harmed, even though my knees are practically knocking. I want to go home and lie under a blanket and pretend this never happened.

I want Marshal.

Lights land on the man before me and footsteps halt. The flashlights all making my horrible action starker to me, I drop the gun and turn away, unable to stand it. The motion catches their attention.

Miss Asaki pipes up first. “Did he harm you?” Perhaps everyone’s afraid of the answer. But nothing really cows her.

“No,” I say. I can hear my negative emotions in my own voice. “I fired because he surprised me.” I think that perhaps, they’ll mock me, or even frown upon me. I am certainly very upset with myself, why shouldn’t they be?

Miss Asaki trots over to me, stepping carefully over the body on the floor, and somewhat awkwardly patting my shoulder. “There's not anything we can do about it now,” She says. “But let’s think before we fire in the future.” Well, at least she was trying, I think.

“No kidding,” Comes an agonized voice from the floor. “Why does she even _have_ a weapon if all she’s going to do is scream and fire  
wildly?”

All flashlights train on the man sprawled out on the tile. I have the urge to kick him for his petulance. But I don’t because he’s kind of right. He squints into the light. “You’re blinding me.” His tone slightly childish.

Trying to be polite but firm, Mr. Anderson turns his flashlight away from the man. “Who are you?”

“I should ask you the same,” The newcomer says. “Shouldn’t you care a little more about a man being shot to death for no good reason?” With effort, he sits up. Everyone takes a step back and once more points all flashlights on him. The grizzly scar across the right side of his chest is visible now that I’m watching him. How did he survive that?

“Only if the corpse stops whining and starts cooperating,” Says Vinny. He must have returned while I was away and gone back to sleep. His feet are only covered by socks and his hair is mused – more than it usually is – from sleep. “I mean, really, what are you? The sniveling version of Dracula? Picking on a little wisp of a girl.” I want to interject but I suppose I am a wisp compared to a man of his size.

There’s a pause. “I don’t follow,” Says the man on the floor.

“You can’t be serious. You’re telling me that you’ve never even heard of Dracula?”

He takes down his top knot but leaves the two wooden hair pieces, marked with a dark Red Crescent moon, that holds the hair behind his ears alone, and running his fingers through his long dark hair, it’s like raven’s wings when the light hits it. “Noooo.” The man says slowly.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyways. Stop picking on defenseless girls.”

Putting his hair in a high topknot, his bangs fall in front of and frame his face. “Don’t make her out to be easy prey!” He says. “She’s the one with the miniature canon.” He points at me, expression exasperated. “And she made the first – and final – blow.”

Anderson tilts his head, eye brows furrowed just slightly. “If that really happened, why are you so garrulous? You seem quite unscathed to me.”

With a huff, the younger man throws up his hands, his blood blends in with his red leather gloves. “Fine. Whatever it is you think, think it. But I’ve come here with a warning.”

Dennis sounds like he’s grown tired of the whining, too. “That all our food has gone bad so you have to dispose of it safely by being the only one that eats it?”

“It isn’t even yours.” The man must’ve heard childishness in his own voice because his mouth snaps shut and he takes a moment to look ashamed. “There’s a panel loose in the food pantry. I came in through that. I couldn’t come in the normal way. I ended up knocking the box down and was in the process of cleaning up when she discovered me.”

Everyone’s eyes land on me.

Except the man’s. His eyes are in the middle of rolling. “Don’t bother,” He says. “She couldn’t tell you one way or another because she never saw me until she fired that canon.” Which wasn’t entirely true. But it was true enough. “I have a headache, too. Thanks to Screamy McShooty.”

“So are you just going to whine and complain or are you actually going to deliver that dreaded news you claimed to have?” Asks Vinny.

“My name is Sorajin. And I’ve come to tell you that my pack – or at least the woman that leads it, is on her way.”

“Your,” Mr. Anderson twirls his right hand as if mimicking the cogs in the inner workings of his mind, “pack?”

“My family or group, as you would call it.”

“You should realize that threatening us will only make it worse. And if you’re lying...” Anderson trails off, alluding to probably some really bad things. He adjusts his own black leather gloves as if in emphasis.

“No, I’m not lying. And it isn’t a threat. This is a real peril to you. We saw the plane. She wanted to kill you and take your stuff.” His head tilts, eyebrows up and looking skyward – to the right, “Although I guess, realistically, she could force you to take her back to where you came from and attempt world domination-”

“And you?” Asks Miss Asaki. “What do you want?”

“I want you to thank me and leave before she feeds you to the dogs.” I have heard of rabid dogs before, but surely these animals aren’t more than the Good Ole’ Boys can handle. Sorajin stands slowly, hands in the air. “Maybe I can play her sympathy.”

“That she doesn’t sound too likely to have.” Says Mr. Anderson.

“She has good days and she has–” His mouth snaps shut. His head turns the direction of the Main Office and the sound of something hitting the roof has me shivering slightly.

Gabriel, who hadn’t threatened Sorajin at all during the encounter, turns the safety off of his gun. “I hope this is her good day.”

“Bad day or good day, I’ll be damned if she gets in between me and my retirement,” Says Vinny. “I bet you even planned this out with her.” His expression is stern.

Sarojin shakes his head frantically and whispers, “I didn’t. I thought I had at least another two hours. And you can shoot me,” He rounds on Miss Asaki who had been aiming to shoot him in the back while he was turned away from her. “But that is only going to get her attention and then we’ll be screwed.” Turning towards the Captain, he corrects himself. “ _You’ll_ be screwed.”

Precious seconds were spent then. Would offense be a better defense?  
Was it worth the risk?

Mr. Anderson’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Go.”

Miss Asaki looks appalled. “Hitomi. Don’t just _let_ him go.”

He turns toward her. “Reiko. Trust me for once.”

“Trust you?” She whispers.

“Yes,” He says. His tone cuts off any arguments. We follow Sorajin down the hallway and stop, watching as he steps into the Main Office. The tarp has already been removed – but not by us – and the full moon illuminates the room, albeit dimly. I realize he’s covered in his own blood. It’s dried and matted into his bangs. He’s brushed most of it off his face, neck, and bare chest. But it’s unmistakable on his old, worn out cargo pants. He looks up at the skylight, staring at something – someone, rather.

“Sorajin,” A woman with a deep, authoritative voice responds.

He then proceeds to speak at great speed in a language that sounds like a mix of Spanish and some Oriental Language. The rest of the group tries to parse it out as much as I.

When he’s done, there is a pregnant pause. He seems to hold his breath.

And finally, she responds, leaping from the roof and landing in a crouch. When she stands, I get a better look at her. She is tall, and not tall for a woman. She’s likely six foot six. All of her dark red hair with the exceptions of her bangs, pulled back into a bun. She wears a mid-thigh-length red dress with red fur on the bottom, but not on her short sleeves and high, Chinese styled collar. There are wrappings of what look like gauze around her thighs, where knives are attached, and around her right wrist. She stands proud with her head up and shoulders back. I am amazed at how little clothing they require. We always bundle up before we go to bed, the environment is too cold. The way he speaks and gestures, is very ‘ _nothing to see here!’_ but she remains unmoved.

And then she turns and looks right at us. Instead of bangs like I had thought, she has two long pieces of hair, parted in the middle and framing her face. Her shirt has a triangular piece cut from it revealing the flat plains of her chest and a small amount of cleavage. And her green eyes glow, reflecting the moonlight back at us. She then turns back to Sorajin, who looks guilty and crestfallen. If he had a tail, it would be tucked between his legs.

It worsens when she points at us and speaks a foreign word with a tone that is rough with contempt.

Mr. Anderson steps forward out of the shadows. “Can you translate?” He asks Sorajin who nods. “We apologize for intruding,” He says. The woman’s attention turns to him, watching him with a sort of disdain.

Lowering his gun, he introduces himself, Anderson Hitomi, and asks for her name. After it’s translated, there’s a long silence. Her eyes shift from the Captain to the definitely undead Sorajin, his expression cautiously hopeful.

With a sigh, she relents. “Renjin Toko.”

Sorajin smiles wide. Miss Asaki’s gun remains up, prepared to shoot from the shadows.

When Renjin speaks again, her left hand goes to her right thigh. Sorajin immediately jumps between Mr. Anderson and his leader, his words frantic and his hands placating. I note a glint of metal in her hand as it comes away. The Captain raises his gun. “What is it she wants?”

“To kill everyone but the Screamer and Miss Bossy.”

Anderson never takes his eyes off Renjin. “Whom?”

“The two women.” Renjin begins twirling what is definitely a knife in her hand.

Mr. Anderson, far calmer than I at this point, asks, “Why?”

“She really hates men.”

“Why are you an exception?” Asks the Captain.

He turns his head, just slightly in Mr. Anderson’s direction, Sorajin’s tone indicates he is truly at a loss. “I have no idea.”

Seeing this as an opportunity, the horrible woman darts in. Sorajin, looking up too late, begins his quick speech but in the blink of an eye and the flick of her wrist, blood spurts from his throat and then he’s falling, gasping and choking on his own blood. The moment Sorajin hits the ground, there’s nothing between the red-haired woman and the Captain.

There’s no time to be horrified with how she just treated the young man as she flits toward her real objective.

I have to admit, I’m impressed. Instead of dropping his cool and running the other way because of how fast she comes in and how fierce she looks, he merely takes a few steps back and fires a single shot into her shoulder.

She doesn’t stumble to a halt or scream. She stops as if she’d been walking a leisurely pace. Her eyebrows draw together slowly. Her lips part in surprise.

“You injured me,” She says. Her accent is thicker than Sorajin’s. Her fingers gingerly touch the new hole in her shoulder. The smell of blood is thick in the air and the moonlight illuminates the spatter on her face and neck, though most of it is Sorajin’s. The blood on her clothes pools like shadows.

“You came across as very intent on taking my life,” He says. Never mind the murder she had just committed to get to him or the fact that she was speaking our language!

She’s slightly distracted by her bloodied right shoulder. “I was,” She says.

“I still am.” Her glowing eyes turn to a slowly stirring Sorajin. His fingers twitch and the wound at his throat closes. “But Sorajin was willing to be killed over you. You must be worth,” she gestures, unable to find the word she wants and knowing we would get the gist, “much to him. And you do indeed carry more than sticks.” She experimentally rolls her shoulders, obviously uncomfortable with the bullet in her right one. “You aren’t as primitive as I thought.”

I burst out unthinkingly, stepping out of the darkened hallway. “Primitive? We don’t look anything like primates!”

Her attention is then rapt on me and I instantly regret ever having a mouth. “For the second in the pack, you aren’t very intelligent, little girl.”

I, unsure what it means, try to think of a decent response. If Pack meant Group or even Family, how did she come to the conclusion that I was ‘the second’?

Sorajin erupts into a heavy coughing fit, startling a few of us. I jump out of my skin. “I’m going to be coughing blood for a week,” He says. He spits near Renjin’s bare feet and wipes his mouth. I can see blood on the back of his hand.

She steps away from the bloodied saliva and gives him a hard nudge in the ribs, not quite hard enough to be a kick, but it isn’t friendly. “Stop getting in my way,” She says.

Between coughing and gasping breaths, he sneers. “What a loving mother.”

“Don’t choke to death.” Her tone gives the impression that she could care less one way or another.

A loving mother indeed!

She turns to the rest of us. “Come out where I can gain a better look at you. Don’t think I can’t tell if one of you is missing.”

Miss Asaki edges out first, the shadows making the lines of her face more intimidating, gun still aimed at the taller woman.

The others follow. She scrutinizes everyone but evaluates Miss Asaki and I the most. Sorajin slowly rises to his feet. There’s blood at the corners of his mouth.

“What is your business?” She asks.

Mr. Anderson takes a few seconds to respond. “We have come to observe all life present on this island. Your pack included.”

“So you come from the Outside Lands?” She says. It sounds rhetorical and no one answers. She spends several moments, eyes narrowed at us, obviously debating on whether to try now or later to suss out where we hailed from. She must have decided to do it later. “What good will come to us if we allow you to go about this mission of yours?”

I decide I would rather offer than be volunteered. “We can teach you about medicine.”

“Are all of you medicinally trained?” Asks Sorajin.

“No,” Says the Captain. He lets out a particularly deep breath “Only Miss Harrison.”

Renjin looks slowly between Miss Asaki and I. “Is this Miss Harrison the skinny one or the mouthy one?”

How dare she! I am by no means fat. I’m quite average in weight thank-you-very-much! Asaki may have more of a naturally slim build, but that was an unfair comparison! She was Military!

“The outspoken one,” Says Anderson.

She gives me a once-over. “And which is your mate?”

He blinks. “Mate?” So people could be ‘seconds’ without being married to the person?

“You should realize that the mouthy one is more likely to bear you healthy cubs. Her hips aren’t the widest,” With a head incline to the left and her left shoulder rising at the same time. “But she also has better odds for bearing children.”

Everyone stands still in, what I think, is shock. I’m stuck trying to decide if I should really take this as a compliment and not some veiled insult. Miss Asaki seems more surprised at Renjin than offended. To the Captain’s credit, he looks incredulous, and says nothing.

I think Sorajin is trying to be helpful when he suggests, “Maybe it’s the mouthy one?” He moves a little in front of Renjin, facing us. “Although I might have been wrong. Maybe it’s both-”

Mr. Anderson, almost as if having reanimated from being frozen cuts in. “Don’t insult my integrity, please.” He sounds as though he’s trying to compose himself.

Confused, Renjin cocks her head. “Then which woman is it? Sorajin told me of your woman and how much you care for her.” Her left hand raises, palm towards the broken skylight. “But yet, you fear to tell me? Are you so shamed by her?” She asks. There is a slightly awkward silence as everyone stares accusingly at Sorajin.

Her eyes narrow, head tilting forwards just slightly and turning to the side. “Is it neither?” She asks. Sorajin doesn’t even look guilty, like he ought to. Instead, with his eyebrows up and a lot of eye contact, he silently urges us to play along. I, again, feel that urge to kick him.

“No,” Says the Captain. “He has told the truth.” Sorajin, the little worm, looks relieved. The tension in his shoulders dissipates. Renjin quirks a brow. “I was hesitant to tell you because I did not want to you to see Miss Harrison as a weakness,” Mr. Anderson says. I’m not sure I like the idea of pretending to be in a relationship with a man. How would I explain it to Marshal?

It’s obvious that she doesn’t believe him. She burns holes into the back of Sorajin’s head as she contemplates her options. He doesn’t dare face her. The tension returns to his shoulders and he closes his eyes. I could swear he’s holding his breath too.

Sorajin finally opens his mouth to speak, but Renjin cuts in. “We’ll allow it. But when you are done, you must give me one thing that I ask.”

Mr. Anderson lowers his gun again. “And what would that be?”

“When I decide, you’ll know.”

“Then we will do our best to keep our end of the deal,” He says. The sun begins to come over the horizon, coloring everything in a blue hue. Renjin makes her way down the hall of the Laboratory, completely unafraid.

I stomp over to Sorajin and point at his chest. Angry enough to be in his face, but not to start a fight I can’t win. “Why would you tell her that?”

He stares after his mother. “Because now, she sees you as a pack. She is curious about what you will do. We know the other packs on the island, how they behave.” He finally looks at my finger then looks me in the eye. “But we do not know how you will.”

“Her curiosity is what is keeping us alive?” Asks Miss Asaki. “There are other tribes?”

Sorajin nods. “Most of the land on the island belongs to different tribes. There are usually a lot of territory battles.”

“Would your group be agreeable to teaching us about yourselves?” Asks the Captain.

“I’ll ask.” He says. He then disappears down the hallway after his mother.

“I can’t believe this guy.” Says Dennis.

Mr. Anderson crosses his arms. “I am quite taken aback at him too, Mr. Holland.”

I personally find all of it very surreal.

When they return, Renjin has a large messenger bag, filled to the brim with something or other.

“You want to learn from us, ah?” She asks. The Captain nods. “Fine. You will learn our habits and ways. Maybe you’ll even stay alive through the winter.” Her head does that slight incline to the left, lips up quirking at the corners but not with mirth.

Mr. Anderson ignores it. “We would like to return here from time to time.”

“We will escort you, then. We must return here as well.”

xXx 

We quickly pack up and turn off the generators. We have to carefully decide what we can take of the medical supplies and what we have to stash somewhere hidden in the Research facility. This takes more time than I intend but while I’m working on that, the Captain has worked with the others to finish packing. Mr. Soujorn – Ameer – stays behind to help me.

“Are you able to return to base?” Mr. Anderson asks Ling Xhao. The pilots were usually milling about the Research Facility but I never really interacted with them. They were nice but they weren’t really interested in the same things I was. It was always about golf, politics, and famous women with one. And ping pong, famous men that invented stuff, and fish with the other.

“We’ll be a’right.” Xhao says. The ‘ _L_ ’s seeming like they want to rebel even as his tongue forms them. He’s only half joking when he tells us, “I’m a little concerned about Team Bad Luck, though.”

Walking by with his backpack in one hand and his blue water thermos in the other, Vinny smiles. “We can make it just fine.”

Xhao rubs the back of his neck. “Ken,” Ah. That’s the other pilot’s name, “and I could probably make routine delivery every few months. But there’s probabry” His ‘ _L_ ’ escapes him again, “only so much we can do.”

Mr. Anderson nods. “Thank you. Anything at all is a help.”

With that, the plane leaves, we don’t bother watching them leave, I think that would feel overwhelming to us, watching our only real chance of survival leave like that and knowing it may not return for months – or at all.

I try not to think about it. I tamp down the idea that I may never again see the man I love.

When we’re ready to go, everything packed up and stored away, we meet up in the Main Office.

Renjin, with a stunning leap, shoots up and through the skylight. There’s officially no way she is human. This is the proof. The skylight is at least twenty feet up.

Sorajin must have noticed the awe with which every one of us watches her. Because he calls out to his mother, “I think we’re taking the regular exit.”

There’s slight condescension in her tone when she replies, “Always preferring your human roots.”

He says nothing in counter, merely turning on his heel and marching away while muttering to himself about horrible, ungrateful women.

After several paces, he becomes aware that we’re doing little more than standing, rooted to the spot and watching him with curiosity. He scowls at us and makes an arc with his left hand as though he’s trying to grasp something out of thin air but his hand doesn’t close. “Come on, then,” He says. His tone is snappish.

He leads us past the computers and along the hall Miss Asaki and I had been down, left hand reverently touching the battered down door as he went past.

Vinny gestures to the walls. “Do you know who wrecked this awesome pad?” He sounds casual. “You seem to know about it.”

“It’s been shown to me before. The Old Ones did it. At least that’s what everyone says. And it doesn’t make sense for them to have massacred each other.” He lightly runs the fingertips of his left hand over the shelves Miss Asaki and I had lined in front of the doors. “This was why I couldn’t get in this way...” He moves the one in front of the blue door with ease.

Light once again pours through as the door is opened. He leads us through one large, fenced in area, through a gaping hole in the huge, fortress-like fence, and then another area, much the same except the hole this time is smaller and the hole has jagged edges. Some of us get through easier than others.

I get my hair caught in some of the loose wiring and nearly have my eye plucked out by a patch of the same. With some team work, they free me and I feel incredibly embarrassed from the while ordeal. Until it is Dennis’ turn to go through. “Aaand I’mmmm stuck.” Dennis says.

“When _don’t_ you get stuck?” Asks Wolfy.

Sorajin has his knife out so quickly, I have no clue where he’d plucked it from. “Hold on.”

“How did you get my knife?” Gabe yells. His next words are Spanish and probably swear words. Turns out everyone hates a pickpocket. Sorajin ignores him like nothing is going on behind him as he begins cutting Dennis out of the hole, grinning like a madman.

Renjin, as Sorajin is hacking away like a mad-hatter, has appeared and is waiting for us, her back facing us with a knife in each hand. When Dennis gets out, we give her our full attention. Sorajin, still playing Mad-hatter, tosses Gabe’s knife back to him. Upon seeing Renjin though, he loses his humor and watches, as tense as she is. He speaks to her in their odd language, but she doesn’t respond.

Beginning to get nervous, He asks, “Renjin?”

Her free hand goes up, the universal sign for silence, but she doesn’t move otherwise.

Everything, from the fence we press ourselves up against to the fifty yards of a sparse area, full of young saplings that haven’t been there for very long, to the dense forest after, is a deafening silence. No crickets or birds. No wildlife whatsoever is visible or heard. Finally, she turns to us. “I think we should make haste.” Her tone is more urgent than her words. “When I tell you, run. Follow Sorajin and don’t stop until he does.”

A sound like that of a conch shell the size of Texas being blown makes us all flinch and cover our ears. Sorajin’s head swivels wildly, looking for something. “Jankets,” He says.

“What?” Gabe asks.

Sorajin opens his mouth but Renjin speaks first. “Get to the trees. It isn’t as skilled there.”  
Looking at the woods for a good place to hide, I see a group of wolves, their coats blood red as they sit in the copse of trees, hidden in their shadows, watching us with gleaming eyes.

I don’t have to time to point out the lurking danger.

“Go now,” She says. She darts to the left of us. Sorajin, like light, speeds over the sapling’s yard as if he’s not even touching the yellowed grass that whispers underneath us. But he never leaves us behind.

“What’s a Jankets?” Asks Wolfy. The head like that of an Apatosaurus, with a long snout and razor blade teeth snatches Sorajin off the ground before we even realize it’s there. The neck is so long, we can’t see the body. Xhao was right to call us the Bad Luck Crew.

I’m shocked that in the blink of an eye, he’s been devoured. I freeze.

The others freeze.

_We’re next,_ something inside me whispers, _You’re next._ But there’s still that chance that Sorajin is still alive, caught somewhere between the head and stomach. I raise my gun and fire. I try not to think of the consequences. It shakes its head fervently and snarls, not all that bothered by a bullet to the cheek bone.

Another head makes an appearance. They’re both green with purple between the eye ridges and down their snouts.

One head darts toward Wolfy. Someone’s gun fires and the wounded head rears back. The second head still watches, still debates, positioned low to the ground. A red blur knocks into me with enough momentum that the angry, wounded creature misses us.

“Thanks Vinny,” I say, trying to regain the breath knocked out of me.

The second head, obviously the opportunist, clenches its teeth into Vinny’s bag and begins to lift him. “Oooh. This ain’t a good thing,” Says the red-haired man. He positions the barrel of his gun behind him. I watch nervously, trying to hit the creature in the eye again and again. I never was a good shot under pressure. Ameer, joins me on the other side.

“Well,” Yells Vinny. “Wish me luck.” And with that, he pulls the trigger. The creature screeches and drops him. He lands hard and breathless. The head itself lands near us, unmoving and its visible eye taken out by Vinny.

I put my right hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

He smiles. “Just need to catch my breath. I should have retired sooner.”

Miss Asaki watches both heads, her gun raised. “You are insane,” She yells. “How did you even know you wouldn’t miss and be eaten?” She doesn’t stop aiming for the second head, but she flickers her eyes to him in disbelief.

He laughs. “I didn’t, girlie.”

As if by magic, Renjin appears from out of the blue, atop the second head. I see a glint of light from the sun reflecting off of metal. The head attempts to shake her off and roars like it did when we were at the fence. We cover our ears in attempt to block the earsplitting sound.

The resounding crash brings us back. Dust and dirt jump into the air as if it were a mist or fog.

Dennis is ductaping Vinny’s backpack before the smoke even clears. As if he doesn’t care that both of our guides are probably dead.

“Which head took the kid?” He asks. The tape is reluctant to stick.

The wolves in the woods are closer now, soundless like ghosts. When the dust finally settles, Renjin is revealed. Her hair is frizzed and she is covered in cuts and scrapes. Her expression turns grim after giving our group a once over and not seeing Sorajin. I’m sure that as long as he’s been inside the beast, he’d probably been fully swallowed. She begins cutting open the throat of the head we first killed. Most of us watch silently.

Mr. Anderson slings his weapon over his shoulder by the strap and stands beside her, watching her. “Where were you?”

She makes no sound, sans the wet sound of the knife through the soft flesh on the underside of the throat.

“Well?” Asks Miss Asaki.

Not really giving us full attention and still cutting with skill and patience, she replies, “It is no business of yours.”

Mr. Anderson runs a hand through his bangs, trying to pressure her into giving more information with a stare that she easily ignores.

After another minute, he sighs and begins helping her. The necks are long and stretch far. “Do you ever use these for food?” Asks Dennis.

Renjin, up to her forearms in grime, huffs. “Only when desperate,” She says.

“When do you get desperate?”

“The winter,” A wolf flattens its ears and makes a begging sound as it approaches her. Practically crawls on its belly towards her. “Some packs make it a point to eat these.” Renjin tosses the wolf a strip of meat. “Some even reward their members for the ones they kill. But it doesn’t matter how revered you are if you’re dead.” She gives a particularly mean swipe to the soft tissue. “I lost too many wolves and people to these.” Said wolves sit in a circle around us, but closest to her. They're huge. Taller at the shoulder than most of our group. I watch them warily.

“Are the wolves your pets?” Ameer sounds like he’s getting tired from cutting.

“Pets?” Says Renjin. “No. They are our companions and partners.”

We cut all the way to the middle of the neck. But there is still no sign of him. “I think we missed him,” Miss Asaki says. The red haired woman gives her a stare that would have sent most people shrinking back timidly. “Or we started on the wrong head.”

“I think Wolfy, Dennis, Vinny, and I are going to go back and start on that one,” Says Gabe.

Mr. Anderson nods.

I go back to watching the wolves warily. “They don’t bite unless ordered. Toss ‘em a treat, ah?” Says Renjin.

This is the warmest the woman had been all day. Reluctantly, I toss a scrap to a particularly small wolf. It catches the meat in mid air and wags its tail, its face almost a smile until I toss it another piece, a little higher. The next is a little farther. Every time, it catches whatever I throw. The woman in red rolls her shoulders, the right one is bleeding again but it’s ignored as she steps back. “Find the boy.” She says to the red furred creatures. A few of them, to my amazement, climb bravely into the throat and work their way down.

When they drag him out, he’s gasping and coughing. “My luck is the worst!”

After he regains his bearings, he promises to return and races in the direction of where the neck originates from. We really have no choice but to wait for him while the wolves have at the necks. When he returns, his messenger bag is filled to the brim.

“Don’t tell me you stuffed raw meat into your bag.” The red-haired woman’s tone is scolding.

“I brought stuff to wrap it in,” He says. I laugh. “Besides, they killed it. They should get their first taste of local food. There’s enough we can give some to Takka and dad, too.”

The woman in red lays one arm over the other, the hand on the underneath arm bent at the wrist so it’s against her top arm. The hand of the top arm rests so only her fingertips touch the upper part of the bottom arm. She stacks her arms instead of crossing them. “Takka does deserve a treat for dealing with you all the time.”

“Hey!” He says, mock offended. She turns and begins to make her way into the forest, the wolves behind her. We follow.

When we get through the dense forest, there is a large gate that opens for us. On it are poles that have flags, a black circle with a crescent moon covering the right side of the circle, like that of Sorajin’s hair ornaments.

Renjin hands both Asaki and I a scarf-like piece of fabric. “Wear this at all times when you are in public.” She then turns to the men. “Do all of you have,” She spends a moment thinking. And then gives up and grabs Sorajin’s hand, pointing to his glove, “This?”

They nod. “Good,” She says. “Put them on and wear them at all times in public.”

Once through the gate, we’re swarmed with people speaking that funny language. The pack of wolves disperse as though mist, into the village. Yet no one is perturbed by this. All of the women, wearing something to cover their necks, are either taller than Renjin or only shorter than her by a few inches. The men, all wearing gloves, are around seven feet tall. All of them, male or female, are taller than Sorajin, and, like Renjin, all of them have large, sturdy frames. They aren’t overweight, but they must have large bones. She speaks very slowly and many of them hang on to her every word.

After speaking with a pudgy woman dressed in animal skins, she leads us to an inn. Most of the buildings have at least one flag hanging from them. The inn is no exception.

The woman in red, with a sigh, hands this lady a particularly beautiful fur out of her carrier bag. The lady asks something, gesturing to Renjin’s damaged shoulder, good naturedly, Renjin waves off the worry with a smile. It’s like Renjin has become a totally different person.

The lady leads us to our rooms on the second floor. I’m boarded in the same room as Mr. Anderson. I can’t help notice the look both Captain and Lieutenant give to each other. Miss Asaki and Ameer are boarded together as well. Vinny and Gabe are put together and Wolfy and Dennis are given a room to share.

Renjin and Sorajin are given their own small rooms.

Our room is made with shiny wood that colorful tapestries hang from, the rug is furry and the bed is a stuffed-to-the-brim-with-something-soft mat on the floor, against the left wall. The decorated pillows don’t feel too bad either. There’s a wooden trunk against the right wall and a few wick chairs with extra blankets folded in them. Our light sources are bright candles all around the room. The window is covered by light red curtains.

“You want _sakhmeh?_ ” Asks the young woman that brought it. Her long dark hair is in a long braid and wrapped around her slender neck, decorated with shimmering hairpins every few plaits. Whatever she’s offering is definitely alcohol.

I shake my head but Mr. Anderson raises his hand. “I would appreciate a bit of it.”

The young woman laughs. “You so funny!” She smiles at him and then begins to make her way out of the room. He seems a little surprised at this. Although, I’m surprised, too.

“Actually,” I say. She stops and looks at me, “I would love some! Sorry to be so troublesome.”

“No,” She says. “No trouble.” Her eyes crinkle when she smiles as she hands me a cup. I thank her and take a sip for appearances, trying not to show how much I hate the stuff and watch her leave. I wait a good thirty seconds then I set the cup near Mr. Anderson’s plate. He’s already started on dinner. He looks up at me. His lips pursed very slightly and head tilted to the right. His left brow quirks.

When he’s done trying to puzzle me out, he takes a sip of whatever sakhmeh is, savoring it for a moment. “So you were not being obtuse.”

I ignore his lack of faith in my good character. “Is it good?”

“It appears to be wine of some sort.”

“Ugh,” I say. “I hate the bitter taste of alcohol.”

“Not all of it is bitter. Alcohol for women would probably be more your speed.” Marshal had said that, too. I try to ignore how much I miss him. “I think that was alcohol for women.”

With a huff that sounds awfully close to a laugh, he agrees.

Dinner involves some sort of steamed vegetable, a meat that tastes vaguely like chicken wrapped in something watery that dissolves in my mouth to balance out the dryness of the meat, thick pieces of bread from something that isn’t wheat, like I’m used to, smeared with the same watery substance from before, and water in small wooden cups. Mr. Anderson and I are unpacking and getting things set up when Renjin comes by – we had left the door open because we were expecting the group to come by and help plan with us, leaning a hip against the doorframe.

“Anna.” I nearly leap from my skin at my name.

I spin around, my lower-thigh length nighty I was planning on changing into, held up to my chest. “Yes ma’am?” I ask.

She tilts her head to the right, probably not understanding the title. “Come with me. Bring a change of clothing."

I share a glance with Mr. Anderson. His eye brows are raised, but he gives me no hint as to whether I should go or not. I follow reluctantly. And find Miss Asaki had been standing out of sight near the doorway. I feel a little better.

“I thought you would like to be refreshed before spending a night in close quarters with your men. I’ve sent Sorajin with the same purpose for them,” Says Renjin. She doesn’t even look back at us as if she knew we wouldn’t refuse. Do we smell unbearable or something?

“Oh, yes ma’am,” Says Miss Asaki.

We go through the washing station, very much like what the Asians have and wrap ourselves in towels before easing into the hot springs.  
Renjin eases into the water, naked and unashamed. Her hair remains up, in its tight bun, but without the high, Chinese-style collar, her neck is bare, revealing the crest tattooed on the right side, but more at the back.

“Is that your symbol?” Asks Miss Asaki. Her dark brown hair is down and pools around her throat and collarbone. “It, and the color red, are everywhere.”

“They are mine.” She rests her arms on the edge of the pool. “Nearly every other clan has its own symbol. A few of them have their own colors. Red is mine and for those with their own color, solid red is forbidden by them because it’s a sign of allegiance to me,” She glances down at her wounded shoulder. It probably still hurts like hell. But it’s obviously been cleaned. “Likewise, solid black, purple, gold, and white are not to be worn in my territory.” She gives us some time to digest this.

I notice that this place is deserted. “Where is everyone?” I blurt. “This inn seems to have good business.” And there were indeed many people in the lobby and in the small area where food was being served. “It’s strange nobody is here.”

Renjin smiles. “I asked for privacy. I get what I ask for.” She tosses her bangs out of her face with the flip of her head. “I am kind to these people. They do the same for me.”

xXx 

Returning, dressed in my simple nighty and a pair of fabric slippers, to the room, I shut the door quietly.

Mr. Anderson, only in cotton shorts, is turned to the side, drying his hair with a fluffy blue towel. Curving with the natural plain of his skin is a scar in the middle of his ribs. He doesn’t seem to have much in the way of body hair – not like my man, at least. Marshal is fairly hairy – his legs have a light dusting, but the hair on his head is long. It hangs dripping, a little longer than the towel, perhaps to the middle of his back or his shoulder blades. His shorts hang a little on the low side from his narrow hips. Realizing I’m paying more attention than I ought to my Captain, I turn my eyes to his face. It’s covered in shadow by his towel but his visible, dark eye gleams from the cover, knowing.

I feel shame burning my cheeks. “Sorry.”

He pauses in drying his hair. “Ah,” He says somewhat awkwardly. “I suppose I should be the one to apologize. I didn’t think you would be back so early.”

“Are the others still out?” I ask.

“Yes.” He resumes drying his hair. “I decided sleep should be a priority.”

I think letting Mr. Anderson have the bed would be a nice gesture and I would do well to make a palate. Humming to myself, I set about the blankets folded in the wick chairs.

“Sorajin thinks I am,” He pauses. “Getting acquainted with you.”

Acquainted? Since when were we not acquainted?

_Oh._

Surely that isn’t what he means, right?

Mr. Anderson turns away, pointedly not looking at me. I scowl and clench the blanket in my hands. “Do you really think I’m that easy?”

“I lied by omission. I never deliberately said I was in that sort of a relationship with you.”

I throw the blanket in my hands onto the floor. “But you’re letting them think that you’re getting laid. Extra points, right?”

“I never really liked the point system,” He mutters from under the towel. “He was going to think we would be busy even if I denied it.” He turns to look at me again, eye peaking from his fluffy blue refuge.

I throw one of the decorative pillows sitting in the chair at him. It bounces off of his chest. “Stop justifying the destruction of my reputation!” I roar. I should care about the noise level, I think, it would be better if I’d been quiet so the entire inn couldn’t hear my wrath. But then I realize that I don’t care. That he is my Captain and lying to people about our relationship is really not okay. Because, what if somebody finds out?

He crosses the distance between us in only a few strides, obviously intending to silence me. “This is not going to damage your reputation, Anna.” Why was everyone suddenly calling me by my first name? “The team knows we are playing games. Everyone else believes we are in a married relationship.”

By now he’s come within a few feet of me, close enough to be in my space, far enough to be respectful, the towel still covering his head and his hands lightly on my upper arms, his fingers long and slender. “No one thinks you’re easy.” He towers over me and I can see both of his eyes now. On his necklace, beside his dog tags, hangs a ring. “And I am sure that with all the noise we have made, people probably think that you and I are not getting acquainted at all.”

I duck my head in shame. Not because of what people would think, but because I was yelling at the top of my lungs – at my Captain, no less.

When he’s convinced I will do no more yelling, he turns away, taking the hand-quilted blanket from the floor and setting up a pallet near the window.

“I can do that,” I say. “Chivalry is dead anyways.”

He looks at me strangely again. “What?”

“I’m sleeping on the floor, aren’t I?”

“I was not planning for you to do such a thing.” He says slowly. “Allowing a woman to sleep on the floor is,” He pauses searching for the correct word, “inappropriate.” He sounded like he was settling for a word he didn’t feel totally suited the situation.

“Gender doesn’t matter anymore.” I say.

“I am sure you have noticed that, to these people, gender means quite a bit.” His tone is beginning to take an irritated edge.

I want to throw another pillow at him. “We should share the bed then.” I say instead. I’ve already decided Marshal will understand. He’ll be jealous, angry even. But he’d understand.

Mr. Anderson looks as though he wants to say something scathing but sighs. “Fine.” He’s evidently become too tired to argue.

We pile a few of the blankets on the bed and turn down the sheets before blowing out the candles. We slowly, awkwardly creep into bed, eyes unadjusted to the dark, apologizing when an elbow brushes a side or a foot brushes against a shin..


	4. Chapter 4

It turns out that we had made the right decision, because a knock to the door wakes us. Mr. Anderson, usually awake by now, bolts into a sitting position, jostling me. I must have curled up against him during sleep.

Awkward.

He scrubs the sleep from his face. “Yes?” His voice is still deep from just being woke up. There is no doubt in my mind that he was exhausted if he’d been sleeping that deeply.

Renjin opens the door quietly, completely dressed. “Get packed.” She looks us over with idle curiosity. I have the blankets pulled up to my chest. Mr. Anderson lets the blankets pool in his lap. “We need to make it to at least the next town before dark,” She says.

The sun is barely up but we get up as quickly as we can. We turn our backs to one another as we change clothes. We fold the blankets up and place them back in the chair. After using the chamber pot down the hall and the washing station, we make our way to the dining room. “They seem remarkably modern,” I whisper to him.

“Until somebody asks for wine,” He says. His tone isn’t cross so it’s probably a joke.

The rest of the team is packed as well, sitting at a large table. Mr. Anderson sits across from Miss Asaki. I sit across from Dennis.

“Sleep well, Sunshine?” Dennis asks. I nod. I’ve slept better than I had on this trip. There’s just something about a warm body beside me. Miss Asaki raises her eyebrows at Mr. Anderson. His head tilts to the side.

“How about you?” I ask, feeling like a parrot.

“Yeah, I did. But Wolfy snores.”

Wolfy stabs his meal with what looks like a sharpened chopstick. “You talk.”

Renjin and her son make an appearance after another few minutes. She sits near Gabe and he sits beside Miss Asaki and seems to join in on the wordless conversation, his smile coming with an implication.

Mr. Anderson and Miss Asaki both begin to give off a peeved air, but Sorajin is purposefully oblivious to it.

Breakfast is eggs with a purple yolk, a pastry filled with some type of sweet berry, and milk. The milk is similar to a cow’s but not quite. The density and aftertaste tip me off.

“When do you plan on having cubs?” Renjin asks us out of the blue.

Mr. Anderson turns his head to the side slightly. “Cubs?”

“Offspring,” Says Renjin. “Young. The continuity of your bloodline – cubs.”

Miss Asaki shifts in her chair slightly, raises her right shoulder and tilts her head as if she were trying to hold one of those big dinosaur phones to her ear. Her expression is almost sarcastic or mocking.

He draws his eyebrows down and gives her a warning glance. “Well,” Mr. Anderson says, adjusting his gloves and carefully choosing his words, “I think we would like to take our time and let it happen. There really is no rush.” He meets Reiko’s gaze. She turns her attention back to her plate and gives her pastry a particularly rough stab with her own sharp chopstick.

Renjin’s head does that incline to the left. “Isn’t it frowned upon among your people to wait? How can you stay leader if you have no heir?”

“I was placed as leader by our people,” He says.

“And therefore you cannot be overthrown?” She sounds as though his logic is that of an idiot’s. “People around here don’t respect childless leaders.”

Hoping to divert her, I ask, “How many do you have?”

“Three,” She says. “Two of them are twins.”

“That must be a lot for you to handle.”

“Twins are common amongst us. Besides, I have their father and Takka, my left hand, to care for them.”

“We usually only have one child at a time,” Says Mr. Anderson.

Renjin finishes her eggs. “How strange.”

 

Leaving the inn, I notice that the majority of people working are women. The men are cleaning, cooking or taking care of the children.

Many of the people wear at least one red item. Some even wear the crest. As we walk by, people begin more whispering and less of anything else. Renjin’s glares quiet them. But only temporarily.

Leaving this village, we’re met with dense woodland again. Renjin has no problems with it.

We stop for lunch in a much smaller town and have much the same results as before. “If we press on soon,” Renjin says, ignoring the strange and curious looks she and our group get, “we’ll be at our destination a little after nightfall.”

xXx

Arriving at a huge, wooden wall, with flags and huge torches, the gates once more swung wide, everyone, this time only dressed in red fur, greet us. No one speaks English and Sorajin is quickly led away.

Renjin takes us to a row of small, yellow guest houses, tells us to make ourselves at home, and disappears. To the far left is what I think are the barracks and in the center is a large temple.

xXx 

We have dinner at the guest house of Dennis and Gabe. The tables are low to the ground and the chairs are mere cushions, but we’re grateful.  
Ameer sighs, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “It feels like forever since we’ve eaten at a real table.” Everyone sits around it.

“Thoughts?” Asks Wolfy.

“I think we’ve got a good thing started,” says Gabe.

“I would be on guard,” Miss Asaki says. “She became too accommodating too quickly.”

“Agreed,” Says Mr. Anderson.

We eat dinner in silence until Vinny puffs up his chest and says, “I was groped when we got swarmed by all those people.”

Wolfy smirks. “Oh,” He says. “Maybe if you find out who, they’ll be your boyfriend.”

“I don’t hear you talking about all the women that want at you,” Says Vinny. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re a virgin.”

“Anyways,” Says Gabriel, “I found it interesting that red is such a big color around here.”

“It’s a cultural thing,” Says Miss Asaki. “Many of them have red hair as well.”

Dennis shrugs. “It looks genetic. The Zombie, though, doesn’t look anything like his mom.”

“So he’s a ‘ _zombie_ ’ now?” I can’t decide if I’m offended on his behalf or amused.

“You saw him regenerate! She killed him and so did you,” Says Dennis.

“Maybe it just looked that way and he’s really lucky?” I guess, tugging at my new neck accessory.

“Then explain the blood,” Says Miss Asaki. I can’t.

“I don’t think that with all the kid stuff, she would adopt another’s,” Says Gabe.

“Maybe he merely bares a strong resemblance of his father?” Asks Wolfy. “I have been told I’m my father’s spitting image.”

“Did he spit and say, ‘holy lampshades that’s an ugly baby!’?” Asks Vinny.

“No. But I’m sure your family tried to throw you away when they realized you were their kid.” Dinner slowly draws to an end and when it finally does, we wash dishes and talk about what we think we’ll find. Afterwards, we go back to our guest houses.

Knowing that, yet again, there was only one bed, and reading way too many girlish romance novels that included the two-people-one-bed dilemma, I make an executive decision.

“What are you doing, this time?” He asks me, watching me make a nest out of pillows I took from the table.

 _Yes_ , I think to myself as I look at a particularly colorful pillow, _this will do nicely._ “Sleeping on the floor so you don’t decide to.”

He stares uncomprehendingly. “No.”

I stop fluffing the cushions and turn to him. “Pardon?”

His hands come out to the side and slight irritation creases his eyes and mouth, “We’ve been over this,” He says. “You are not to sleep on the floor.”

“But there is only one bed. It isn’t good for you to sleep on the floor and you’re doing more work than I.” I cross my arms. “I appreciate your concern but your health is priority over mine.”

He suddenly becomes very interested in the polished wall to his right, scrolls and paintings hanging from it. I personally like the one with a different woman in red sitting atop a large, red furred wolf. One of the first things I noticed about the art was that it was carefully done and well detailed. I stare at him another minute or two.

“Share the bed with me.” He sounds frustrated. “It is completely inappropriate, but it is better than leaving you on the floor. Your role is just as important as mine.”

The bed is surprisingly large and western-styled, placed in the middle of the far wall. To the bed’s right is a large window with curtains the color of Renjin’s dress. And to the right, up against the wall beside the bed is a shelf made of some black stained wood. Beside that on the connecting wall is a closet. And beside the entryway, is a door that leads to a restroom, complete with a washing basin, a chamber pot, a shower stall-and-bathtub, and a small cabinet full of small cloths, towels, and sparse medical supplies. We both shower and decide sleep is needed.

I pick the side of the bed with the shelf and he chooses the side with the window. We tightly roll up my travel blanket into a small barrier and place it between us. He gives me the heavy blanket that was already on the bed. It’s warmer than any other blanket I’d had in the past I close my eyes and pretend Marshal is with me.

xXx 

**“Where is she?”**

I turn to look back at Miss Anna’s moonlit form on the other side of the bed. She had slept through the ringing of the satellite phone. We’d both been exhausted by the end of the trek through Red Territory.

 **“Anderson.”** The voice on the other end of the line brings me back from my musings. **“I’m not going to ask you again.”**

“Why are you calling me instead of her family?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

 **“I did.”** The voice on the other end is rough. Like the gritty feeling of wet sand sticking to my hands. I detest that analogy, actually. It makes me think of the day we had an excursion there. **“They won’t tell me.”**

“Then why should I?” I check my watch. It’s nearly three in the morning.

**“Because if you don’t-”**

“You’ll what?” I say, trying to keep my composure. “You no longer have any weapons to employ.”

**“When you get back-”**

“You and I both know I’m not coming back.” _You stole everything from me,_ I want to say. I clench my teeth so hard it hurts. He becomes silent on the other end. Which isn’t like him. And for a moment, I think he has hung up.

 **“When was the last time you talked to your brother?”** His voice far friendlier and light than it should be. I’m mildly confused by this sudden change in topic.

Anna sighs behind me. I look out the window, at the full moon.

He takes a breath. A sound that means, _This is far from over_ or _I’m not done with you._ **“If I’m told she’s with you-”**

“And she isn’t,” I interject.

 **“You’re going to regret it.”** The line goes dead with a soft, terror-inducing _click._

xXx

I wake up in the middle of the night, hugging the flimsy barrier like a body pillow and drooling an impressive puddle. The nightmare that woke me is already fading from memory. Something about bananas that were going to avenge their eaten brethren, I think.

I had been facing away from him when I fell asleep and I am still faced away from him. And I’m grateful for that. Until I, again, think of the blanket in my arms and realize that, at some point, I rolled to face him, took what was supposed to keep us separated, and rolled back over. Meaning that if I had woke him, or he were still awake, the chances of him noting my own version of “nocturnal emissions” are pretty high.

I carefully roll over so I won’t bother him, hoping that he is sleeping as deep as he did the last time we were in such close quarters. Please be asleep, I mentally chant. And I silently curse my luck to find him already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed, looking out the window. The soft silk curtains pulled wide open, casting a glow on tanned skin and giving him a sort of a backlit look.

His hair, usually pulled back into an inconspicuous form, pours down his back like shadows. This time, I can see that it touches the middle of his back.

 _How does he hide that much hair?_ I wonder. I can make out faded scars on his shoulder. They have a sense of clean lines and hidden places to them. The scar I saw on his ribs before looks as nasty as ever and I wonder, how much did it hurt? How did he get it?

After a few minutes, the hairs on his arms slowly raise and his form shifts from thoughtful and hunched over, to alert and erect.

He is still for a long time. Long enough for me to realize that my gaze searching his form is what has his spidey senses tingling. I lay there a little longer, debating on just what I should say to him. The silence eventually reaches a point where I know that he knows I know.

It feels like a stalemate of stillness. He doesn’t move and I don’t speak. He’s kind of lovely to look at in this light, anyways.

Finally, he turns his head towards me, just past his bangs so that he can look at me in my almost-appealing sort of lacy but oh-so-comfortable pajamas I hadn’t wanted to wear around the others because it would result in discomfort all around and I’m pretty self-conscious.

I figured it wouldn’t bother him because of how distant he was to us.

We both stare at each other for what could have been thirty seconds or an hour. _Please let the moonlight do as good for me as it does him!_ I pray internally. The dim lighting highlights his good features. So I hope the same is done for me. Although, over thinking the way he’s looking at me, I vaguely get the feeling the low lighting does the opposite.

Feeling brave enough to try words, and not wanting to be scrutinized anymore, I begin. “Your shoulders…”

“I’d rather not,” He says.

“They aren’t the same as the one on your ribs, are they?” I carefully press.

Irked, he says, “Just because the lines appear blurred, does not mean that they are. Please respect my boundaries.”

“Okay,” I say softly.

“Thank you.” His shoulders visibly relax and his upper body turns fully toward me, he allows his right knee to rest on the bed, left hand absently clenching his necklace with the dog tags but his right hand is in his lap, holding the satellite phone.

I don’t move. “It’s a little concerning that your thoughts are keeping you awake.” I’m carefully nosing around, hoping he’ll give me an indication as to the real reason he was awake. He stares, already put out with me. “Do you want to talk?” I muster, nearly shrinking under his gaze like a frightened animal.

He’s blank like a stone wall. “No. Thank you.”

I squeeze my eyes shut against his reaction, so I can’t see his anger when he finally yells at me for prying and with my last bit of bravery, I ask, “Do you need a hug?”

His hand wraps lightly around my arm, gently encouraging me to sit up.

Doing so, I brace to be struck while he shifts on the bed. My mind takes me back to when I was twelve and my mother watched from the dining room table, apathetic, a cigarette dangling from her fingertips as her at-that-time boyfriend beat me senseless for telling them we were out of milk.

The feeling of Mr. Anderson’s warm skin is what returns me to reality. To the present. And I realize I’m crying like an idiot.

Mindful of my nails, my hands clench the soft, bare skin of his back and I find my face in the crook between his neck and his scarred shoulder. His dark hair tickles my nose. “You are so strange,” He says. “Is this how you usually convince people to hug you?”

I shake my head just slightly. “Comforting people comes way too easy for you,” I whisper. My voice is clogged and wet. I’m trying not to snot all over him. But I feel safe.

He says nothing for a little while. His warmth transfers to and engulfs me. And I’m calmer for it. “Why are you crying when you are supposed to be worried over me?” His tone is gentle and teasing.

I take my time to respond and he allows me to. When I can breathe again, he smells spicy, like cologne. Underneath that is sweat, the clean sheets, and the sticky jungle air. And I pray I don’t smell horrible.

“I am sorry for giving the impression that I intended to do you harm,” He says. “I want you to be able to trust me.”

I don’t want to explain anything. So I tell him a loop holed truth “You didn’t scare me,” I say. “I just remembered my dream.” I try to keep my own thoughts as vague as possible. His hands rub up and down my back slowly, just enough to be comforting.

“I’m sorry,” I say. He shakes his head. And it occurs to me that everyone has been insanely nice to me on this trip.

“What are you thinking about?” My voice is clearer but now, even more than before, my focus is on not snotting on his shoulder.

“How cold your hands are.”

“Oh. Sorry,” I say again. I move to pull away but only succeed in having my hands trapped between us.

He lets out the huff like laugh and tells me not to worry.

After a few minutes of warmth and safety like I’ve never felt – Even with Marshal – I drift into the ocean that is sleep. Pressed into my collarbone, are the dog tags…

… And the ring attached.

xXx

When I wake, the room is crimson hued from the sun shining through the dark red curtains. I’m alone in the room, the barrier is back in place, and the curtains are closed. Had what transpired last night been real?

Surely not.

Getting up, I change clothes as quickly as possible as not to get caught undressed.

I just finish buttoning my jeans when Hitomi comes in, shirt sticking to his skin, his hair pulled back but his bangs shiny and wet. Bare feet mark the wood with condensation and his shoes, the socks neatly tucked into them, dangle from the crooked index and middle fingers of his left hand. It’s too late for me to take a shower, so I go about the rest of my morning habits.

He leans against the doorframe and watches me. Mouth full of foamy toothpaste, I ask, “What is it?”

He shrugs and begins to make his way back into our room.

“Was last night – did that really happen?” I ask. I’m so glad he’s turned away so he can’t see the froth that shoots out of my mouth. Ugh.

He freezes mid-step. Then lightly sets his foot down. And I begin to doubt that he’ll answer.

“I’m not really sure what you mean.” I can hear in his tone that his words are – as always – carefully chosen. “You did cry in your sleep and call for your mother a lot.” I flinch. Man, I feel like such an idiot. But at least the thing between us didn’t actually happen.

“I am very sorry for your loss.” He turns to look at me. “Many of us on this team have lost someone very special to them and it seems you are no exception.”

In a way, I think, I have lost mom. “I did lose her. But she hasn’t died,” I say. He stares at me, waiting for me to explain further. I return to brushing my teeth.

He comes back and leans against the doorframe once more. “I…” He appears to deliberate on whether to finish it or not. It’s my turn to look at him from the corner of my eye. “The person I lost, did not die either.” He blurts, which is unlike him, but I wait and say nothing. We both watch each other for something, anything. I still don’t know what it was we wanted.

And this is where Ameer finds us. The Captain, leaning his hip against the doorframe and me bent over the chamber pot, spitting toothpaste. “Are you sick??” He asks. I look up at him in confusion. He turns to – or even on – Mr. Anderson, “You can’t just stand there for, God’s sakes.” He rushes over and gathers up my hair out of my face.

“Ameer,” I say, “I appreciate it, but I’m not sick.” I wipe my face and smile at him, toothbrush evidently in hand.

He backs off in embarrassment. “So he was watching you go about your morning affairs?” Ameer asks, a little annoyed, yet again, at the Captain

“He was politely waiting on me,” I correct gently. “He was up long before me and had made preparations as such.” Ameer gives Mr. Anderson an incredulous look. The Captain doesn’t even look smug. He just watches us interact, arms crossed. With another look from Ameer, Mr. Anderson leaves the doorway.

“You aren’t all that fond of him, huh?” I whisper.

“It gives the impression that he’s looking to conquer both you and Asaki – although I’m almost perfectly sure he has her by the throat.” Ameer says, trying to keep from sneering. I notice because it still comes through.

“I think all of this is a big misunderstanding. It’s obvious that they’re together or something. He’s just being polite to me.” I reason, washing my hands. Ameer is unmoved but silent.

“Anyways, that horrible woman has summoned us for breakfast.” He says loud enough for both the Captain and I to hear.

xXx

We all sit at Renjin’s table, it’s vaguely western but the design on the table holds the symbol on the flags, clothes, and hair pieces: the blood red crescent moon with the dark background. The chairs are high-backed and comfortable, as well.

Vinny doesn’t sit. “How about I help get the food sorted out?” He offers. “It’ll be my way of showing some appreciation. And besides, Anna and Ameer will both help.” He volunteers us. Instead of yelling or complaining, both Ameer and I stand and pretend to agree with him.

Renjin doesn’t seem like she wants us to go out of our way to do this, but she says nothing. Probably, it isn’t worth the breath to her.

Vinny’s hands are cold when he hands me the tray. “This is the Captain’s,” He says.

Upon setting the tray before Mr. Anderson, I’m stopped by Takka, Renjin’s nanny and all-purpose-left-hand. A woman probably in her forties, but has no grey hairs. “No. No. No.” Her ice – or perhaps electric – blue eyes with pinpoint pupils are narrow. Her chin length red hair swishes as she shakes her head. “Our leaders are served first.” She takes the tray from me and makes her way over to Sorajin, her long loincloth trails behind her at the back and tries to wrap around her ankles at the front. Her throat and left wrist have red wrappings around them, while her midsection is bare and her shirt is sleeveless. Renjin watches with a relaxed posture.

Beside Renjin sits a moderately handsome man, –Sanchu I think – a little taller than Sorajin but still much shorter than Renjin. His hair is curly and so brown it's nearly black and his eyes are light brown. He wears the Crescent Moon over his left pectoral in tattoo form.

And while Renjin is distant and cold, he’s warm and friendly. She’s stern and he’s open and relaxed. She’s probably in her twenties – even more reason that she couldn’t have mothered Sorajin. He, too, looks as if he’s in his twenties – but Sanchu looks to be in his thirties or forties. This man has grey streaks in his hair, though few and far between. Perhaps Sorajin was the red-haired woman’s step-son?

Renjin wears a red wrapping on her right wrist and Sanchu wears it on his left. It’s the opposite for Sorajin and the woman beside him, Ruuka. A woman with red, wavy hair held back in a bandana-like fabric, speckled with freckles and large blue-green eyes. When the food has been served, we wait for Renjin to give the signal.

She sets her utensils on her tray and looks patiently at Sorajin.

He stands, clears his throat, and gives something like a toast. He speaks English first, then his language. Renjin and Ruuka raise their bronze cups and Sorajin places his right hand over the tallest candle at the center of the table, palm down. The wick lights itself with a deep red flame.

“How did you do that?” Asks Ameer.

Sorajin only smiles and sits back into his chair. I smile because I know that Ameer will spend the next few weeks trying to puzzle it out.

But there will be time for that later. Renjin sets a napkin in her lap and this is, of course, the signal for breakfast to begin.

Breakfast is purple, scrambled eggs, something with the consistency of oatmeal but not quite tasting the same. Rolls made of something other than wheat with that strange watery spread, a meat that tasted similar to beef, and fruits of different varieties, none I had ever seen before. I reach for a heart-shaped green fruit.

Sorajin takes one of the small bowls that has little pink berries in them and pours a clear thick substance from one of the small pitchers into it. “Next week the traders will start their rounds.”

Renjin watches the copious amount he pours with something that might be disgust, translates Sorajin’s words to the others, and then says, “I suppose we should take them to the trading grounds.”

Mr. Anderson reaches for a roll, grasping it lightly. “Trading grounds?”

Sorajin picks up a spoon that is long on the sides, but short, end-to-end and stirs his concoction. “It’s good to go. You meet new people–”

“The only thing that’s good is the profit.” Renjin cuts in. Sorajin's shoulders tense like he's ready for a fight, mouth opening to reply.

Sanchu's hand slams onto the table, expression stern, sighing as though this is an old argument. Gesturing to us, he lets out a low whistle. Renjin's lips twist but Sanchu has already gone back to lightly drizzling the thick stuff from the pitcher over his roll, very carefully so it doesn’t go anywhere but the roll.

“What other races are there?” Asks Miss Asaki.

“Most of them are of the same genus. But each is a sub-type. Except for the Tarshish,” Says Renjin. Pausing, she homes in on Sorajin. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” He says. But he’s pale.

“You’re cold,” Says Ruuka. Her hand had been on his arm.

“Really,” He insists, “I’m fine. I just-” Ruuka pushes his tray away from him and sets her left elbow onto the table so her hand catches him by the forehead, keeping him from slamming his face on to the table as he suddenly is no longer conscious.

She slowly lowers him down to the table and checks his pulse.

She looks at each of us with narrowed eyes. “Which of you gave him poison?”

“I assure you that no one on my team would poison a man we know cannot die,” Says the Captain as he watches Sorajin for signs of life.

Her eyes darken with anger. “You lie.”

“No,” Says Renjin. “It wouldn’t make sense for them to do that.”

Sorajin slowly comes back. “So it was you then?” His face is still on the table.

“My days of training you to avoid death have long passed,” Says Renjin. “The cooks and servants will be sternly questioned.”

A new tray is brought by a mousy girl covered in more freckles than the sky has stars. She ducks her head timidly under Renjin’s vicious gaze. And throughout the rest of the meal, I notice Renjin and Miss Asaki watching me closely.

After breakfast, we gear up for Takka to take us on an expedition to capture Fall-backs and anything else that appeals to Gabe.

The gates open slowly and people seem to hold her in nearly as high a regard as Renjin.

The wolves from before follow us and a particularly large wolf stays in the lead with Takka. The runt I had made friends with before trots near me. Takka’s English is far from perfect, and she barely understands us, but we make do.

Catching a pair of Fall-Backs had been easier than I actually expected. They twitter quietly, wings clipped, in their cage. We move to another spot where Takka had set up traps. They are empty, but a mean-looking bird with sharp talons and a large, owl-like shape, sits upon one of the branches a few feet above us. It’s black with white markings and its caw sounds vaguely angry. But I must have imagined it. The bird sidesteps a small blade as it whizzes through the air. It spreads its dark wings in warning, trying to appear bigger, perhaps? And caws again. Three birds of the same type land on branches near us.

“What are you doing?” Gabe puts his hand over Takka’s, trying to keep her from throwing her second knife.

“They tell animals,” She says, pulling away from him and aiming at the first bird again.

It sidesteps once more and drums its talons, like fingernails on a wooden surface, just once. A quick sequence.

The birds descend on us with ferocity. The first attacks Takka. The second flies away, cawing loudly. The third attacks Wolfy. I run to get at the bird with my machete but the last bird, like lightning, hits me. It digs its talons into the muscle of my left shoulder and caws hatefully into my ear. I raise my hands to protect my face. It flaps its wings and yanks my hair and razes the skin of my arms and hands while I try to bat and shake it off. And then it’s over. I can’t remember when I had dropped my machete. I must have done it upon impact.

Miss Asaki stands over me with a bloody machete and a roughed up countenance. Her hair is as wild as mine. The bird that had put me to the ground lay beside me, dead. Wolfy’s forearms are bloodied but he seems fine.

Takka doesn’t seem harmed at all. “Everyone okay?”

“Yes,” Says Mr. Anderson as Miss Asaki helps me up. My cuts burn and itch. Takka’s half-way up the tree the first bird had been perched in when we realize where she is.

“What are you doing?” asks Ameer.

When she comes down, she opens her satchel with a smile, revealing three speckled eggs. “When they hatched, we can teach them to tell when others are near.”

Mr. Soujorn spends the rest of the evening scribbling furiously into his notebook.


	5. Chapter 5

For the next week, we traverse what we decide to call Red Territory.

Most of it is sticky, humid, rain forest. We have breakfast with Renjin’s people – who never find out who poisoned Sorajin. And we observe the animals, including the Fall-backs that now sit on the eggs of the birds that attacked us. We call them Howls. Because they are fierce like hawks but look like owls.

Miss Asaki and I also follow Ruuka and Renjin around when they let us. They teach us home remedies for their Clan, everything from Cough Syrup to pain medication. I teach them about modern medicine.

“Where did you learn this?” I ask after about the third day of watching Renjin prescribe treatment after treatment.

“Takka,” She says simply. “Every leader must know these things if they are going to take care of a Clan.” She runs a hand through her hair. “Isn’t that why you know so much?”

xXx

It was far more time consuming to reach this place than I expected, which is bothersome to me.

It is a good thing that I am so attracted to nature and all of its subtle treasures. I would be unduly miserable otherwise.

Stepping off the helicopter, I am overtaken by the sweet smell of the breeze and the untouched feeling I get when looking at the expanse of forest. Perhaps I can petition the military to allow me to live here, away from people.

With the woman I love.

I was told prior to embarking that there were natives here. I had only seen minimal evidence of that as we flew over the island.

When we landed, their leader was already waiting for us.

xXx

“Pack up,” Sorajini says after breakfast. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

We get the rest of the day to ourselves. After packing, I settle on the bed and open the last journal from the Research Facility. Larry’s.

_'Entry 156: The Full-Blood I’ve been studying seems civil. And I want to think that he is. But underneath that intelligent façade is a little savage. And when he shows it, I’ll catch him._  
For a scientist to already have pre-conceived notions was a little strange to me.

_'Entry 164: He finally did it. He finally revealed just what he is. The only problem is that I can’t report it. They’ll send me back if I do._

_He has the softest skin though. His teeth are a little sharper than I expected and he’s almost able to overpower me. That is a grave problem. The bright side is that I’ve discovered he’s a mute.'_

“Are you alright?” Asks Mr. Anderson. “You look as though you have eaten something unsavory.”

“I think the Scientists were abusing their power.”

“Ah,” He says. “Many people do. It is a hard thing to accept. But it does happen.” He doesn’t sound like that is, in exactness, what he’s talking about.

_'Entry 182: The idiot Full-Bloods are accusing the Tarshish of doing harm to the mute. It’s a little funny how they’ve done my work for me. I could probably even put him down as the trouble maker and have all evidences of what went on between us destroyed. The problem is that this seems to be the final straw between the Savages and their newer sibling race. We can’t keep them in the same area together anymore.'_

Confusion and uneasiness twists together in my gut.

_'Entry 200: They want to dissect one of each race to see what kind of progress they’ve made. They want volunteers to go under the knife so no one is forced. They’re trying to make the volunteers out to be heroes. I have put forth the name of the little savage-'_

"Anna,” Says the Captain from the bathroom. “Put that down for a time. It appears as though it is making you sick.”

“I think something terrible happened to these people.” I lay the open book into my lap. “And you can’t even see me.”

“Then discover the terror in moderation.” He comes into the doorway to gesture slightly with his hairbrush. “It isn’t good for you to overwhelm yourself. Even if you are curious,” He says.

I huff. “Can I finish the passage?”

He returns to the mirror inside of the bathroom. “If you absolutely must.”

_'- I have put forth the name of the little savage. He continues to be a thorn in my side and dodge every attempt to make him worth destroying._

_Soon, I may have to take things into my own hands.'_

I glance up at the bathroom. He’s still occupied, probably shaving.

_'Entry 205-'_

“What are you thinking about?”

Swallowing my frustration, I reply, “How they didn’t background check these people.”

“They probably did. Put the book away.”

“But I-”

“We both know you are done with that passage,” He says.

“Yes, mother.” I say sarcastically.

“Well,” He says, “at least I taught you manners. Your father was a lazy man.”

I roll my eyes and stash the book in my bag. “You’re weird.”

xXx

Miss Asaki comes over for tea in the evening. “How’s Mr. Soujorn?” Asks Mr. Anderson.

Miss Asaki stirs her tea. “Fully occupied with his studies, I’m afraid.”

“He seemed very delighted this week.”

“He was. I imagine the birds aren’t, though.”

“The birds are well cared for,” Says the Captain, sipping his tea. I stir a great amount of sugar into mine. They both look as though they want to discourage it, but decide not to.

“Yes, but they have to sit on the eggs of a bird that has terrorized them.” Miss Asaki looks out the window. “And they are caged. Not only unable to get away from the creatures, but unable to leave at all.”

“Better than a snake that would steal their lives from them.” Their eyes meet. What appears to be a staring contest ensues.

“We aren’t talking about snakes,” Says Miss Asaki, putting her cup down a little harder than is probably intended.

He stirs his own tea, shoulders squared. “They are a notable variable.”

She scowls. “And the howls are not?”

“The howls have not hatched yet."

She slams her spoon onto its saucer. “We still know the danger they are capable of.” Instead of getting louder, she gets quieter, but fiercer in the place of gentler.

It’s Mr. Anderson’s turn to look out the window. Why they’re so stirred up about snakes and birds is beyond me.

Miss Asaki blinks slowly and sighs through her nose. “I think,” She says, “That both the howls and the snakes are a problem for the species.” I pretend to be too interested in my tea to see her lightly lay a hand on his wrist.

The Captain looks at her again. “But for this particular pair, the problem is the howl chicks.”

The rest of the time is a lot lighter, they tell old stories about Vinny and how he used to have a horrible habit of always losing his shirt. They told of Dennis and how he would burn dinner if slighted, and of Gabe and Wolfy who would prank their dorm mates. It seemed they – and Mr. Soujorn – were the only ones I didn’t learn about that night. They even encouraged me to tell a few stories of the good things that happened in my life.

I suppose I should have realized that something was amiss. It’s after telling them a story about Marshal, that Miss Asaki suddenly hits her fist against her open, skyward palm. “Would you like to call him tonight?”

How could I say no?

xXx

There is a rustle in the trees that we first think are curious animals. Then, we realize, it is the natives I was so warned about. There are wolves with jet black coats that come first. They encircle us but make no other moves.

Then a group of men appear. All of them wear black fur. These men are between six and a half and seven feet tall. They have dogs and knives.

We have guns.

There's a tense silence and a long standstill. Neither of us sure if the other is friend or foe.

Then, just like that. They slip back into the treeline.

xXx

They return two hours later with, who I believe is their leader. Her hair is long and dark most of it is pulled into a high topknot. Her features are fine, that of nobility. She is seven and a half feet tall.

What did these people eat to make themselves like giants?

She wears a vest that is made of fluffed fur and a black shirt that is skin tight.

I note her build is a little mannish. And her breasts are nonexistent. So this is what a woman of the Amazon would be. Perhaps Reiko would be able to relate to her.

The woman speaks. Her voice is husky and makes me think of a man. “We've come to greet you but you treat us like enemies."

“They threatened us,” I say.

She smiles and makes her way closer. I give orders for my men to stay in place and refrain from assault unless attacked.

When she’s close enough that I can make out the symbol on the hair pieces on either side of her head, a black crescent moon on a silver background, I realize that she is certainly a man.

His fine features are actually quite sharp. And the build is slim, but filled out with muscle.  
“Have they come?" He asks. But it is more of a demand than an inquisition.

“They have,” I say. A plan is already forming in my mind.

He stacks his arms in front of himself instead of folding them. “Come with me."

xXx

I can’t wait to hear his voice. I know he’ll be excited to hear mine.

I have so much to tell him. Like everything I had seen and how much I missed him. And I just know he’ll tell me he misses me too, about his stupid dog and his family. About his job and how much he loves me and wants to see me again–

“Marshal Jacobs speaking.”

I nearly jump at the sound of his voice. “Marshal,” I say. I can feel my heart beating faster.

There’s a long pause. “Anna?” He asks when I think he isn’t going to answer. “Anna, is that you?”

Elation sends butterflies twisting and twirling in my stomach. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“I thought I wouldn’t hear from you for a few months yet,” He says.

“I know,” I tell him. “Me too.” I can’t stop smiling. I’ve missed him so much. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry. And that when I get back, we can go to that burger place you like and work this whole thing out, I’ll even treat. And then we can just go back-”

“Anna,” He says. “We aren’t going back.”

My world sputters to a halt. “What?”

“I don’t know when you’re getting back Anna. It could be years-”

“Or only a few months,” I say.

“But you don’t know that, do you?” I bite my lip and focus on keeping my voice clear.

He sighs. I picture him running a hand through his curly hair. “Look. You’re great. But I can’t just- just wait forever.” I know he’ll know I’m crying if I say anything. But I’m sure he already knows. “I’m sorry.” He sighs again. “Don’t call me when you get back. Bye, Anna.”

“Wait!” The phone line goes dead. I stare at the phone in my lap, tears running down my face. I feel like those useless girls in the movies that choke you to death using melodrama. Am I always like this? Am I like them?

I’m still in the living room when I wake in the morning, phone in my hands. Everything is that same blue hue as so many days ago. I stand and try to work the kinks out of my neck and shoulders.

I pad into the bedroom where the Captain lay. His left hand grasps his necklace like a safety blanket. Does he ever take that thing off?

Maybe to shower- Never mind. I don’t need to know when he takes it off.

I open up his bag as quietly as possible. Trying to settle the phone in results in the bag twisting just the wrong way and something sliding out. I swear under my breath and pick it up, trying not to break or bend anything.

“What are you doing?” Mr. Anderson is sitting up now, watching me.

I show him the satellite phone and say, “Putting it in your bag.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe me. “What’s in your other hand?”

Oops. That looks bad. “It fell out. I was putting that back, too.”

Although what he needs a wallet full of old pictures for, is beyond me. I guess I just don’t get people. He stares at me for a long time, still disbelieving. “Did you look at them?”

I shake my head.

He lies back down. “You can.” He sounds as if he’s resigned to a terrible fate.

“Why?” I ask. “You don’t want me to.” I carefully put the phone into the bag.

He is silent but the air is expectant, like he thinks I should know why. “It’s the day, isn’t it?” He asks.

“Yes?” It was a day. It was the day we were headed to the Trading Grounds.

“Then go ahead,” He says. There is a long silence as I try to parse out just what he is talking about.

I begin to stick the wallet back into the bag and realize I missed one. It sits next to the bag, hidden in its shadow. I suppose that if it were animate, I should feel mocked.

This one I do look at when I pick it up. The picture is of a beaming Captain, a grinning Asaki, a mousy woman who was smiling shyly at the camera and another man, who isn’t Asian. He has ash blonde hair, and cupids-bow lips. He’s smiling just as much as everyone but his eyes do not crinkle like theirs. I quickly stick it in the wallet, catching glimpses of what is probably the Captain’s family in one photo and a dolled up Asaki in another. She hadn’t worn make up at all this trip. And it isn’t all that surprising that they know each other outside of work.

I zip his bag closed. “You should probably get up.” A shower would be good. I gather things up and make my way to the bathroom. Standing in the doorway, I ask, “How long have you and Asaki been together?”

He slowly sits up, confusion written on his features. “You don’t know?”

“Am I supposed to know?”

He runs his fingers through his hair. “Reiko is my cousin.”

I blink. “What?”

“I thought you knew,” He says.

I shut the bathroom door.

Why would I know this stuff? What purpose would I have for it? Why is he suddenly behaving like that? And while things slightly make sense now, they also don’t. Was that how cousins usually acted?

My mother was estranged from her family. Interacting with cousins was like meeting strangers – when we even went to family occasions.

I start the water and wait for it to heat up.

xXx

Morning dawns too bright for me. It has been a coarse few days and I did not sleep well.  
The man’s people – his Pack – have brought us water and arrange everything we need.  
I’m impressed with how well he attends to us.

But the look in his eyes tells me this is not kindness. This is a snake waiting to strike.  
He’s picking apart our dynamic. Trying to understand how we work.

But he is not the only one who is good with games, I muse. “You’re being very generous,” I say as I approach him.

He is watching his men work so he doesn’t turn to me. “Your gifts are much more generous. Perhaps we'll be able to learn more from you than just weaponry."

Ah, the Humility and Flattery routine. So juvenile.  
“I was thinking that we humans would do well to live beside you.”

There’s a pause. “We would enjoy humans living amongst us.” He sounds genuine but the inflection had to have been a double-entendre. It is entertaining that he believes I’m so easy to manipulate and hide the truth from.

The wind has a chill to it. But it smells just as sweet as before.

“Why don’t you join us?” He asks, tone casual. “If you wish to live among us, you should learn of our culture.”

Why not? It would be a perfect way to gather evidence for ruling these savages.

xXx

Reiko paces the floor in front of the washroom door. “She’s lying.” She came by right after Anna locked herself in the bathroom.

“I don’t think so,” I reply, putting on my pants. I can practically feel the anger and questions in Reiko’s gaze. She obviously wants to ask me why I’m only in boxers. “She seemed to take me at my word when I said you were my cousin.”

The running water reminds me of rain and soothes me slightly. I wish it would rain. I usually sleep better when it does.

“I’m not convinced. Why was she going through your bag? What about the incident with Sorajin?”

I hadn’t forgotten the incident with Renjin’s son. It was rather odd that he’d been poisoned. Reiko is convinced it was a misdirected attack on me. Although it could have been a purposeful attack on him.

I can’t honestly believe one of our own would attempt murder. But I at least had to consider that some one would, more for Reiko’s sake. I knew that I would die the moment I was told about this place. “I think it is Soujorn.” He hadn’t liked me for awhile.

Reiko drums her fingers on her lower lip. “Soujorn doesn’t make an effort to be near you.”

I pull on my shirt. “Even more reason.”

“Harrison is in the perfect position.”

“But she has not made a move yet,” I reply.

“She’s waiting. It is too obvious at this point so she’s biding her time.”

“Do you think it could be anyone else?” These two are the most likely, but maybe we missed something.

“Vinny was present,” She says. That doesn’t mean she thinks him the culprit. It merely means he could have done it. “But this is his last go before he retires.”

It wouldn’t make sense for him to do anyone harm. All he had talked about, since we had told him he was assigned, was retirement. And I was fairly sure prison wasn’t part of his plans.

“What about Renjin’s people?”

“If Renjin wanted us dead, we would all be dead.”

“I guess she doesn’t, then.” Steam billows out of the open doorway.

The humidity warms me just slightly. Anna is dressed but her hair is wet. Reiko and I share a glance, unsure at how much she’d heard.

“How did the call with Marshal go?” Asks Reiko.

Anna doesn’t answer.

Reiko thinks she called Aaron.

xXx

Sitting at the leader’s table is a surreal experience. It is reminiscent of a large desk.  
The chairs, more like stools with backs, are comfortable and made of what may be mahogany. The women sit on their knees or calves on much shorter, pillowed seats. The men sit with their legs crossed.

The woman across from me, Hyon, pours my tea. The other women fill the cups of their male neighbors. The servants pour the tea for the women in the group. The tea is mildly sweet with a bitter aftertaste.

I, personally, have always preferred my tea and coffee black. Which is different from that of my peers. Reiko enjoyed her tea and coffee with honey. Hanna was always watering down her coffee with milk and sugar.

And he usually dumped copious amounts of sugar into everything.

A memory once endearing and entertaining is now a foul taste in my mouth. Anger coats my insides like hard candy. Bitterness slinks up my throat, trying to gag me. I no longer wish to have tea.

_Ah, but don’t be rude,_ I remind myself, this is important. I swallow down my clambering emotions before they can stick themselves to the roof of my mouth and make homes under my tongue. Then I sip the tea in effort to drown them. My thoughts still struggle against me.

“Why is this woman so important to you?” Asks the leader.

“Because she was taken. Against her will,” I say, redoubling my efforts to focus.

“And just whom is this terrible man?”

“The man who betrayed me.”

xXx

Sorajin volunteers to take us to the Trading Grounds. Takka goes with us to sell some of their wares. “What kind of currency do you use?” I ask Sorajin.

He pats the head of a particularly large red wolf. It nuzzles into his hand and wags its tail. “Pretty much anything that’s got value. Other clans use a coin currency called Quint. Renjin hates the idea of being tied to something that she’s not entirely sure will exist forever.”

xXx 

The first night is spent at an inn. We play cards and drink sakhmeh in Sorajin’s room for awhile. It’s fun and I feel warm and relaxed by the end of the night. Sorajin is careful that neither Miss Asaki nor I are drunk. “Ladies ought not to place themselves at risk of predatory men,” He says. And he drinks enough that he is significantly more relaxed, but he doesn’t go past slightly tipsy.

“And who would those predatory men be?” Asks Reiko, her eyebrow quirks as if to punctuate her question.

With a slight laugh that implies he is being good natured and a smile that shows sharp canines, he says, “Me.” His eyes take a gleam like that of Renjin’s. Inhuman. Predatory. Hungry? Even though his tone implies that he is only joking, this makes me pause to wonder if he’s being serious.

Something in the deepest part of my gut quivers in a way that might be instinctual. And I have no idea if it is a thrill or if it is fear. The idea of being devoured – not literally, of course – by an inhuman has never occurred to me. And I think that perhaps I am inhibited enough to consider it. Would I enjoy it? Would it be a terrible experience?

Would he be a better lover than Marshal?  
The gleam is gone now. Sorajin is back to a human veneer. Reiko must have noticed the display and felt threatened, because her easy posture stays easy, but she makes an subtle effort to get distance from Sorajin.

He seems just as casual, far from offended. The only other person who seems to notice it is Vinny. And I only know this because Vinny watches him a lot closer the rest of the night.

Dennis and Gabe eventually go back to their rooms. Takka had gone to bed hours ago. There’s a little more card playing, a little more drinking. Then the Captain heads back to our room. Reiko assists him.

“So what then,” Says Vinny, “You’re not going to comment on the whole, they’re mates and should stick together thing?”

Sorajin rolls his eyes. “Did you forget that I’m the one that started that lie?” He pours himself another glass. “Takka is asleep. Renjin is at home, unable to observe you and your tendencies. You and the bossy one could be knocking boots and I wouldn’t care one way or another. It’s not my business who is in bed with who as long as you are keeping the rest of the Clan fooled.” He gestures with his cup expression neutral and distant.

Ameer sighs and rolls his shoulders. “But Takka will be able to observe us tomorrow.”

“Exactly. So keep up appearances, then,” Says Sorajin. “And don’t have sex with me in the same room.” He is smiling but his tone is serious. Stretching out, I decide that it’s my bed time as well. Ameer escorts me.

Out the door and to the right. We’re away from the others when he breaks a tense silence. “I overheard a conversation between Mr. Wolfstadt and somebody over the satellite phone.”

“Okay,” I say. Because I have no idea what he’s trying to say. “Why is it worrisome?”

“Because they were talking about you.” I still don’t get it. So I stare at him with my palms out. 

“They think you are trying to impede the group,” He says, stopping far away from the rooms we know belong to the rest of the team. This is nonsense. Nobody is doing any harm to the team. It weren’t as though anything other than a bad thing here and there happened with us.

“Why would they think that?” Did I really look like the culprit in something that was clearly Murphy’s Law?

“I’m not sure. I personally think it’s Dennis.”

“Dennis?” I repeat, unconvinced.

“He is way more about food than is natural. And he didn’t have to come on this trip. I’ve heard he has a restaurant to manage back home and had enough money to stay in the reserves,” Says Ameer. “Yet he agreed to it. What does that sound like to you?”

“Coincidence?” I offer.

Ameer frowns. “Fine. But you should know that Reiko’s got it out for you.”

“Girls always have it out for other girls,” I say.

Ameer rolls his eyes as I open the door. “Good night, Anna.”

xXx

The winding road we take after we leave the town goes from an easy, beaten path to a long hike and back. Takka isn’t even slightly winded by the time we have to stop.

Sorajin isn’t either but he insists and pretends to be ill. Takka, concerned for her Prince, relents and chides him about pushing himself further than he should with his ever present illness. We rest in the shade of a tree that makes me think of an Elephant Ear from Africa.

“What did she mean by ‘ever present’?” Asks Wolfy, who has picked up the language far faster than us and never misses a nuance.

“Ever since I was a kid,” He says, “I’ve had an illness that debilitates me at times.”

“You just pretended to be sick so you didn’t have to do anything,” Reiko says.

“No, actually,” He says. “My temperature drops and I get weak. It’s a real struggle to get back on my feet.” He sips lightly from his flask.

“You’re temperature drops?” I ask.

He nods. “Most people get fevers. Because I’m hot natured, I get a reverse fever.”

That makes little sense to me. But whatever.

The inn we stop at tonight is a little more elegant than the last. It’s several hours away from neutral territory.

But we’re tired and dirty and Sorajin feels pity for us. I end up roaming the gardens in the back that the inn is connected to.

Ameer sits on the steps and watches.

We reach Neutral Territory by midday and the Trading Grounds by evening. There are a few log cabins, owned by the Red Tribe that sit in a loose circle. There were different types of housing in different places. Each has a symbol.

A tall man with black hair that’s cut short, except a braid that plaits down his back, falls into step beside Sorajin and they talk rapidly. The back of his shirt has a stylized version of a howl landing on a reclining woman’s extended arm. Or maybe she’s fighting it off in terror. Eventually, he turns to look at us.

“This is Raiton,” Says Sorajin. “He’s a friend of mine from the Northern Territory.”

Sorajin introduces each of us. When Raiton speaks, I know enough of the language to pick up: “She let you keep them? She’s getting old.”

Sorajin rolls his eyes.

“What sub-type is he?” I ask.

“We call them Rogue. Most clans and packs are. But there are others.”

“What are you?” Soujorn asks.

“Human?” He offers. His shoulders shoot up in a sheepish shrug. “Renjin is part Xii but Takka is Rogue.”

We walk by a large, three story house decorated with lanterns, beads and other ornamental items. It looks just shy of gaudy. Extremely skinny women, some as tall as Renjin, some that were probably barely four-foot-four, lean against the doorframe, stand on the balconies of the second and third stories and call out to the passing men. They look very delicate with fine features and large eyes. Vaguely reminiscent of anorexic elves from an anime I saw as a kid. When we walk by, a few of them even call Sorajin and Raiton by name.

“I guess you frequent,” Says Dennis.

Sorajin shakes his head. “A few of my friends do.”

Raiton rolls his shoulders. “That’s where our friend from one of the South Eastern clans, Chikotsu, met his fiancé.”

“It’s a real shame they didn’t end up married,” Says Sorajin.

“She was Tarshish. They never would have been able to have kids.”

“Wait,” I say, “What do you mean?”

Sorajin turns to me. “Tarshish and Full-Bloods are incompatible. It’s extremely rare for them to have children together.”

“What happened to her?” Asks Wolfy.

“She was murdered,” Says Sorajin. “Some people can’t stand the idea of a Full-Blood with a Tarshish. Even though whatever caused the feud between them was so long ago.”

“If they hate the Tarshish so much, why do they allow them at the trading grounds?” Asks Miss Asaki.

Sorajin turns back to the path. “Because degrading them is, apparently, better than killing them.”

A red-haired man that is taller then Raiton, with caramel skin and dark eyes joins us.

Raiton smacks him on the back. “I wondered when you’d show up.” He looks to us. “This is Chikotsu,” his words are spoken so fast, I can barely understand him, “if you talk about him, he’ll appear.”

Chikotsu frowns. “That’s hardly the case. And stop speakin of me when I ain’t present. You always make me sound like a deviant or a pervert.” His voice is deep with a slower meter to his speech. His dialect is different, too. But only slightly, the rhythm is different. Emphasis is placed at different parts of the word.

“That’s because you are one,” Says Sorajin. The other man punches him in the arm with fake malice. Sorajin merely grins. “Where’s your brother?”

Chikotsu rolls his shoulders. “Probably looking for you.”

“And Tonro?” Sorajin asks Raiton.

“Flirting with Yanrik.” Raiton’s dialect is different, too, now that Chikotsu’s brought it to my attention. His speech is, of course, twice that of Sorajin’s or Chikotsu’s. The way the words sound at different points have slightly different pronunciations.

“Okay,” I say in the foreign tongue, my voice so full of accent even I can hear it. “Explain.”

“Tonro and Raiton come from the North. Tonro is half Xii, by the way. They come from the same clan and they are practically brothers,” Says Sorajin in English. “Chikotsu and Sech both come from one of the South Eastern clans. The leader is like a father to them. So we call them brothers.”

“Are they being groomed to be leaders?”

“Well,” Says Sorajin. “It’s kinda a draw between Chikotsu and their leader’s kids. Sech hates playing lead.”

“Too many politics,” Says Chikotsu.

Sorajin stretches his arms over his head. “The wife of the leader has some pull, too.”

“Are you or Taco next in line for the throne?” Dennis asks Raiton.

He tilts his head. “Tonro and I are content in our families.”

“And Yanrik?” Asks Wolfy.

“She’s the heir to the Southern Tribe,” Says Sorajin. “She’s full Xii.”

“How many different races are there?” Asks Soujorn.

“Four,” Says Sorajin. “There are the Softs, they look like regular Humans but they’ve gone out of existence. There are the Rogues, they look less Human as they get older. But they’re pretty strong and usually are the ones to make friends with Skin-Walkers.”

“Not to mention some of the most beautiful women are Rogue,” Says Chikotsu. “The next are the Xii. They are more likely to have it good with  
nature in general. They’re built the same as Rogues but are slimmer. Then there are the Fall-Backs.”

“Fall-Backs are the most desired of the races,” Says Raiton with a smirk.

Sorajin rolls his eyes. “But they aren’t as common as Rogues or Xii.

You can usually tell their race by how voluptuous the women are and the wide ribcages both genders have. They usually have the same tattoo as well. No matter what clan they belong to. They aren’t as strong or sturdily built as Rogues or Xii, either. But they have an advantage only the Tarshish seem to have.”

I am unable to picture the people without feathers. “Why is there a race of you and a species of bird with the same name?” I ask.

“Ah,” Says Sorajin, “That’s a long story.”

xXx

We have lunch at one of the nearby places.  
A gaggle of women from the Gaudy House sits at a table near us. Many of them wear the same tattoo and markings. Some of them wear what Sorajin tells us are Fall-Back Tattoos. These women wear nicer clothes and jewelry than the others.

When they walk near us or we pass them, they call: “Prince Sorajin! Who are your friends? Won’t you give us your company?”

Sorajin only smiles and bids them a good day. When Wolfy, Gabe, or Ameer look at them, it becomes a game of giggling and shy glances.

The attention of Dennis or Vinny has them tittering and behaving like the disturbed flock of birds they are.

Vinny grins. “This is more like it.”

Sorajin blows a piece of hair out of his face. “They like men with your body type more than others. Most women on this little speck in the middle of the ocean do.”

“Why?” I ask, tugging at my scarf.

“Just the way they’re made, I guess.” His head snaps to the left when my scarf comes loose.

“Are you okay?” Asks Ameer.

“Put your scarf back on, please,” He says to me.

“Why?” I look to the table the women from the Gaudy House sit at.

Their clothing ranges from modest to scraps-for-clothes, but they all wear something that covers their throats. Their neck pieces show only slivers and slices of the soft skin underneath. And many of the neck pieces are yellow or orange. Passing men stare at me and passing women eye me with disgust. I quickly place my scarf in its rightful spot.

“But the men don’t cover their throats,” Says Miss Asaki.

“No,” Agrees Sorajin. “Because we cover our hands.”

Ameer pulls a glove off and sets his bare hand on the table, watching the people around us. The women from the Gaudy House respond with tittering and surprised gasps. Women cover the eyes of their female children, young women look torn between shy curiosity and embarrassment, and the men look away awkwardly or glare. After Ameer pulls his glove back on, he and Wolfy write furiously into their notepads.

“You guys are mortifying,” Says Sorajin. “I can’t believe I’m associating with you.”

Suddenly, the girls stand up, heads swiveling in the direction of the dirt road to the left. Their coy looks and playful attitudes disappear. People begin racing to shops and their temporary housing. The caramel man from before races toward us from the road in the center.

Sorajin stands. “What?” He asks. “What is it?”

The man, Chikotsu, points to a large cabin. It has sable colored walls and a flag that hangs from the second story window. The symbol on the flag is white with an off-white sword, pointed downwards, and strands of purple, black, and green woven around it like ivy. We quickly make our way to it with Chikotsu close behind.

“What’s happening?” Asks the Captain as soon as we were behind the locked door.

The Chikotsu leans against the door. “They’re lookin’ for you.”

Sorajin is deeply bothered by this.

“They?” Asks Miss Asaki.

“Anayo's Clan,” Says Sorajin, beginning to anxiously pace back and forth. “They haven’t had it out for us for the last few years. Why now?”

Chikotsu rolls his shoulders. “Nothin’ we can do about it,” He says. “Besides, it ain’t you they want.”


End file.
